SAN    FRANCISCO 
AND    THEREABOUT 

By  CHARLES  KEELER 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

THE   CALIFORNIA   PROMOTION   COMMITTEE 


Copyright  1902 

By  The  California  Promotion  Committee 

of  San  Francisco 


Thirteenth  Thousand 


PRINTED  BY 

ME  STANLEY-TAYLOR  COMPANY 

SAN    FRANC'SCO 


mHVEHSTTY  OP  GAJIPORNI 
SANTA  BARBARA 

841 


SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 


PREFACE 

There  is  a  real  need  at  the  present  day  of  a  book  on 
San  Francisco  which  shall  be  simple  and  direct,  giving 
a  brief  history  of  the  city's  romantic  past  and  a  just 
description  of  its  present  life,  with  the  picturesque 
setting  of  bay  and  hills.  It  is  needed  not  merely  to 
introduce  people  at  a  distance  to  the  American  metrop- 
olis of  the  Pacific,  but  also  that  the  younger  gene- 
ration of  native  sons  and  daughters  may  not  forget  the 
exciting  scenes  which  have  been  enacted  here,  and  that 
they  may  be  reminded  of  the  enlarged  life  in  which 
they  are  called  to  participate.  In  undertaking  these 
brief  essays  I  have  tried  to  give  a  true  picture  of  the 
city  so  far  as  the  limited  scope  of  the  book  permitted. 
In  writing  the  historical  chapters,  condensed  to 
a  few  telling  episodes  of  the  stirring  life  of  a  century 
and  a  quarter,  I  have  consulted  the  voluminous  Annals 
of  San  Francisco  by  Soule,  Gihon  and  Nisbet,  Theo- 
dore H.  Hittell's  History  of  California,  John  S.  Hit- 
tell's  History  of  San  Francisco,  Lights  and  Shades  in 
San  Francisco  by  B.  E.  Lloyd,  Bayard  Taylor's  El 
Dorado,  Dana's  Two  Years  Before  the  Mast,  and  many 
other  books  and  pamphlets.  The  descriptive  chap- 
ters are  chiefly  the  result  of  personal  observation  dur- 
ing the  past  fifteen  years,  supplemented  by  such 
pamphlets  as  the  Reports  of  the  Chamber  of  Com- 
merce of  San  Francisco  and  other  papers  and  articles 
bearing  on  the  subjects  discussed.  If  this  little  book 
succeeds  in  stimulating  a  few  residents  to  read  more 
deeply  of  the  city's  past,  and  to  continue  with  increasing 
zeal  the  work  of  its  future  upbuilding,  or  if  it  awakens 
in  some  of  our  Eastern  friends  the  migratory  impulse 
which  impels  them  to  follow  Horace  Greeley's  advice 
to  go  West,  it  will  have  accomplished  its  mission. 

C.  K. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Discovery  of  San  Francisco  Bay     . 

Mission   Dolores 

San  Francisco  from  the  Bay 
Looking  Down  Market  Street 
Looking  Up  Montgomery  Street  from 

Market 

Looking  Down  Kearny  Street  to  Market 
A  Van  Ness  Avenue  Residence    . 

The  City  Hall 

Trinity  Church 

Along  the  Waterfront     .... 

An  Alley  in  Chinatown 

On  a  Restaurant  Balcony 

Quaint  Japanese  Garden 

On  the  Rim  of  the  Golden  Gate    . 

A  Glimpse  of  the  Business  Section 

On  Campus  of  University  of  California 

Burlingame  Country  Club 

Inner  Quadrangle  of  Stanford  University 

Mount  Tamalpais 

Passage  Between  Two  Hemispheres 

Map  of  San  Francisco  and  Thereabout  at  end  of 


faces 

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book. 


CONTENTS 


The  Padres  of  Saint  Francis     . 
The  Coming  of  the  Argonauts 
The  Railroad  and  Bonanza  Kings 
The  Peerless  Bay    . 
Vignettes  of  City  Streets    . 
Highways  and  Byways 
The  Barbary  Coast    . 
A  Corner  of  Cathay 
Pleasure  Grounds  by  the  Sea    . 
The  Awakening  of  the  City 
The  Eastern  Shore     . 
South  of  San  Francisco 
About  Mount  Tamalpais 
Through  the  Golden  Gate     . 


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THE  PADRES  OF  SAINT  FRANCIS 


N  these  days  of  steam  and  electricity, 
when  news  is  thrilling  back  and  forth 
over  the  wire  nerves  of  the  land,  and 
trains  are  coursing  like  arterial  blood 
from  shore  to  shore,  it  is  hard  to  real- 
ize that  in  the  memorable  year  of 
1776,  while  our  own  ancestors  were 
making  the  immortal  declaration  which  gave  birth 
to  the  American  nation,  the  Spanish  padres,  knowing 
nothing  of  the  momentous  conflict  across  the  land, 
fraught  with  such  deep  meaning  both  for  America  and 
Spain,  were  establishing  the  humble  mission  of  San 
Francisco  for  the  conversion  of  a  few  Indian  souls.  To 
understand  the  motives  which  inspired  the  little  band 
of  zealots  in  wandering  thus  to  the  outer  rim  of  the 
western  world,  and  to  learn  their  means  of  establishing 
themselves  there,  a  swift  backward  glance  is  necessary. 
During  those  far  away  times  when  Protestant 
Elizabeth  jealously  watched  the  doings  of  Catholic 
Philip,  a  lonely  galleon  sailed  once  a  year  across  the 
waste  of  the  Pacific  from  the  Philippine  Islands  to  the 
Mexican  port  of  Acapulco.  It  was  laden  with  spice 
and  the  treasure  of  the  Orient  destined  for  Seville.  Eng- 
lish buccaneers  lurked  in  the  bays  of  the  west  coast  of 
the  Americas  waiting  to  plunder  the  treasure  ship, 
or,  failing  in  capturing  this  prize,  to  loot  the  Spanish 
towns  of  Central  and  South  America.  Foremost  of 
these  daring  pirates  was  Francis  Drake,  who  followed 
up  the  coast  of  North  America  and  passed  San 
Francisco  Harbor  without  discovering  it.  It  was  in 
the  year  1579  that  he  landed  in  the  bay  which  today 
bears  his  name  and  took  possession  of  the  territory, 


2  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

calling  it  New  Albion,  and  holding  there,  before  a 
wondering  band  of  Indians,  the  first  Protestant  service 
on  the  Pacific  shore.  A  stone  cross  has  recently  been 
erected  in  Golden  Gate  Park  to  commemorate  this 
event. 

Even  before  this  time,  California  had  been  named 
and  its  coast  superficially  inspected  by  the  Spaniards. 
Cortez  and  the  explorers  in  his  service  had  sailed  about 
the  end  of  Lower  California,  which  they  supposed  to 
be  an  island.  They  had  read  the  popular  romance, 
Sergas  of  Esplandian,  wherein  is  described  a  fabulous 
race  of  Amazons,  decked  in  armor  and  precious  gems, 
who  lived  on  an  island  to  the  right  of  the  Indies,  and 
half  hoping  no  doubt  to  prove  the  fiction  real,  had 
called  their  discovery  after  the  mythical  land  of  the 
Amazons,  California.*  Barren  and  unpromising  the 
region  proved  to  be.  Cabrillo  in  1542  sailed  along  the 
coast  and  in  1603  Vizcaino  explored  it,  mapping  the 
bays  of  San  Diego  and  Monterey,  but  adding  little  else 
of  value  to  the  knowledge  of  the  region.  He  noted, 
however,  that  as  he  proceeded  northward,  the  country 
became  greener  and  more  inviting  in  appearance. 

Not  until  the  year  1768  was  there  any  serious 
thought  of  settling  the  region  which  today  is  known 
as  California.  Baja  or  Lower  California  was  occupied 
by  Jesuits  until  the  hostility  of  the  government  drove 
them  from  the  land.  Their  missions  were  taken  by 
the  Dominicans  and  the  way  was  at  last  open  for  the 
Franciscans  to  undertake  the  settlement  of  the  prac- 
tically unknown  wilderness  of  Alta  or  Upper  Cal- 
ifornia. Junipero  Serra,  a  fervid  enthusiast,  was 
chosen  as  leader  of  the  movement,  and  he  lost  no  time 
in  setting  out,  with  three  little  vessels  and  two  land 
parties,  for  San  Diego,  where  he  proposed  to  locate 
the  first  of  the  new  establishments.  According  to  the 
plan  of  the  governor-general,  Galvez,  three  missions 


*An  attempt  has  been  made  to  find  the  derivation  of  California  in  two 
Spanish  words,  caliente  fornalla,  a  hot  furnace,  but  this  origin  is  generally 
discredited. 


THE  PADRES   OF   SAINT   FRANCIS  3 

were  to  be  founded,  at  San  Diego,  Monterey  and  at  a 
point  midway  between  the  two,  to  be  called  San  Buena- 
ventura. When  the  devoted  Junipero  Serra  heard  this, 
he  asked  if  Saint  Francis,  the  founder  of  their  order, 
was  to  have  no  mission  dedicated  to  him.  Galvez 
answered  discreetly  that  if  Saint  Francis  wished  a 
mission  he  could  show  them  the  port  where  it  was  to 
be  located. 

Shortly  after  reaching  San  Diego,  despite  the 
exhausted  condition  of  many  of  the  party,  despite  the 
numerous  deaths  from  scurvey  of  those  who  had  come 
by  sea,  and  the  loss  of  one  ship  with  all  on  board,  de- 
spite the  hostility  of  the  Indians  and  the  uncertainty  of 
the  way,  a  detachment  was  sent  forward  to  find  the  bay 
of  Monterey,  known  only  from  the  rude  chart  of 
Vizcaino,  and  to  locate  there  the  second  mission.  It 
was  this  party  that  missed  their  objective  point  and 
discovered  instead  one  of  the  world's  most  wonderful 
harbors,  a  hundred  miles  and  more  beyond. 

The  party,  commanded  by  Governor  Portala, 
included  Captain  Moncade,  Lieutenant  Fages,  En- 
gineer Costanso,  Sergeant  Ortega  and  two  priests, 
Padre  Crespi  and  Padre  Gomez,  together  with  thirty- 
five  soldiers,  a  number  of  muleteers  and  some  Mission 
Indians  from  Baja  California.  Can  we  not  conjure 
up  a  picture  of  them  as  they  climbed  the  sage-brush 
mountains,  forded  the  rivers  and  looked  on  the  beauty 
of  the  live-oak  glades,  or  penetrated  the  mysterious 
solitudes  of  the  redwood  forests?  There  were  the  two 
friars  in  their  coarse  gray  cowled  robes,  Governor 
Portala  and  his  officers  in  gay  costumes,  with  short 
velvet  jackets  and  wide  slashed  breeches  trimmed  with 
gold  lace,  bright  sashes  and  plumed  hats;  the  soldiers 
with  loose  leather  coats  hanging  to  their  knees,  and 
leather  breeches;  the  muleteers  in  serapes  and  som- 
breros, and  the  scantilv  clad  Indian  followers.  Afflicted 
with  scurvey,  many  of  the  party  had  to  be  carried  on 
litters  by  their  able-bodied  fellows.  Still  they  pressed 
on,  they  knew  not  why  nor  whither.     On  November 


4       ,  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

first,  discouraged  and  exhausted,  they  climbed  the 
heights  near  the  ocean  and  saw  the  wide  coast  bight 
formed  by  Point  Reyes  to  the  northward  and  sheltered 
by  the  Farallones  de  los  Freyres,  a  group  of  rocky  islets 
off  shore.  Most  of  the  party  were  satisfied  that  they 
had  overshot  their  mark,  but  as  some  uncertainty  still 
existed,  Sergeant  Ortega  was  sent  forward  with  a  party 
to  explore.  Some  of  the  soldiers  left  behind  in  camp 
went  hunting  in  the  hills  to  the  eastward,  and  on  re- 
turning told  their  companions  of  a  great  arm  of  the 
ocean  which  they  had  seen  to  the  north  of  them.  When 
the  explorers  came  back  they  reported  that  Indians,  met 
on  the  way,  told  them  of  a  harbor  two  days'  journey 
ahead,  where  a  ship  lay  at  anchor.  With  renewed 
hopes  of  finding  Monterey,  Portala  pressed  forward 
with  his  flagging  band.  After  traveling  well  to  the 
north  he  climbed  the  hills  in  an  easterly  direction  and 
from  their  crest  looked  down  upon  the  splendid  reaches 
of  San  Francisco  Bay.  What  thought  he  as  he  scanned 
that  vision  of  land-locked  tide — of  misty  miles  of  hill- 
encircled  bay  with  silver  bars  of  sunlight  flung  across 
the  gray-blue  expanse  from  the  cloudy  sky?  Not  of 
marts  and  emporiums  for  the  commerce  of  the  world 
was  his  vision,  but  simply  of  a  new  site  for  a  mission 
and  a  new  center  for  spreading  the  gospel  and  main- 
taining the  prestige  of  the  King  of  Spain. 

He  found  that  the  report  of  a  ship  was  false  and 
that  in  truth  he  was  looking  upon  a  hitherto  unknown 
country.  Accordingly,  after  a  few  days  of  further 
exploration  along  the  hill  crests  in  view  of  the  splendid 
bay,  the  party  retraced  their  weary  way  to  San  Diego, 
there  to  report  the  failure  of  the  expedition.  When 
Father  Serra  learned  of  the  discovery  of  this  wonderful 
bay,  he  recalled  the  words  of  Galvez  and  was  con- 
vinced that  the  explorers  had  been  miraculously  led 
by  Saint  Francis  to  the  spot  where  he  wished  his 
mission  to  be  established.  Some  six  years  intervened 
before  this  could  be  accomplished  although  the  devoted 
leader  never  lost  sight  of  it  as  the  objective  point  in 


THE   PADRES   OF  SAINT   FRANCIS  5 

his  work.  Meanwhile  Monterey  was  re-discovered 
and  settled,  and  after  it  San  Antonio,  San  Gabriel,  San 
Luis  Obispo  and  San  Juan  Capistrano. 

Three  years  after  the  first  expedition  in  search  of 
Monterey,  Father  Serra  persuaded  Lieutenant  Fages 
to  further  explore  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco  with  a  view 
to  locating  a  mission.  A  third  party  continued  this 
work  in  the  fall  of  1774,  and  at  Point  Lobos  on  a  hill 
overlooking  the  Golden  Gate  and  the  Seal  Rocks,  set 
up  a  cross  to  commemorate  their  work.  The  next 
year,  when  the  San  Carlos  sailed  into  Monterey  Bay 
with  supplies  for  the  mission,  it  brought  the  welcome 
news  that  orders  had  been  given  to  send  a  party  of 
settlers  from  Mexico  to  establish  the  new  presidio  of 
San  Francisco.  Ayala,  the  commander  of  the  little 
vessel,  had  also  been  instructed  to  make  a  survey  of 
the  harbor  by  boat,  which  he  at  once  proceeded  to 
undertake.  On  the  fifth  day  of  August,  1775,  he  sailed 
through  the  strait  and  anchored  in  the  bay  of  San 
Francisco,  the  first  navigator  to  penetrate  to  its  majestic 
waters.  He  selected  an  island  for  his  headquarters, 
naming  it  in  the  deliberate  Spanish  fashion,  Nuestra 
Seiiora  de  los  Angeles,  the  same  that  has  since  been 
curtailed  and  Anglicized  into  Angel  Island.  From 
this  rendezvous  the  bay  was  explored  in  small  boats 
as  far  as  the  mouth  of  the  Sacramento  River. 

The  first  party  of  emigrants  for  San  Francisco 
started  at  about  this  time  from  Sinaloa  and  Sonora  in 
Mexico  on  the  long  and  weary  march  over  a  region 
without  roads.  Two  hundred  strong  they  set  forth — 
soldiers  and  settlers  with  their  wives  and  children, 
driving  herds  of  cattle  before  them.  At  San  Gabriel 
and  again  at  Monterey  they  had  long,  vexatious  delays. 
Finally  a  small  advance  guard  pushed  on  to  their 
destination  and  selected  the  spot  now  known  as  Fort 
Point  for  the  presidio  or  fort.  For  a  mission  they  chose 
a  more  sheltered  valley  some  two  or  three  miles  re- 
moved and  midway  betwixt  ocean  and  bay.  Not  until 
June,    1776,  did  the  main  party,   much   depleted  in 


6  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

numbers,  finally  leave  Monterey  for  San  Francisco. 
Two  missionaries,  Francisco  Palou  and  Pedro  Benito 
Cambon  accompanied  them.  Under  the  leadership  of 
Jose  Moraga  they  set  forth — a  sergeant,  two  corporals, 
sixteen  soldiers,  seven  pobladores  or  settlers,  muleteers, 
vaqueros,  servants  and  Indians,  together  with  their 
wives  and  children.  Many  of  them  were  mounted, 
while  a  pack  train  and  a  herd  of  about  three  hundred 
cattle  were  driven  before  them.  Shortly  after  their 
departure,  the  San  Carlos  sailed  with  a  load  of  freight 
for  the  settlers.  Father  Serra  took  leave  of  the  emi- 
grants and  bade  them  God  speed,  loath  to  see  them  go 
without  him. 

A  ten  days'  march  brought  the  party  to  the  San 
Francisco  peninsula,  where,  near  the  present  site  of 
Dolores  Mission  they  set  up  their  tents.  Their  first  task 
was  to  erect  a  rude  hut  to  serve  as  chapel,  where  the 
mass  could  be  celebrated.  They  then  made  further 
inspection  of  the  country,  and,  ere  long,  leaving  the 
missionaries  with  a  few  soldiers  and  the  cattle,  moved 
out  upon  the  hills  flanking  the  Golden  Gate,  where 
they  set  about  building  rude  temporary  dwellings  and 
a  chapel  which  they  deemed  of  more  immediate  im- 
portance than  a  fort. 

When  the  San  Carlos,  after  much  delay  by  head 
winds,  lagged  into  port,  the  presidio  was  more  care- 
fully planned  in  the  usual  Spanish  style,  with  a  plaza 
in  the  center.  The  carpenters  were  assisted  by  the 
sailors,  and  ere  long  the  combined  force  had  contrived 
to  build  a  cluster  of  low  houses  of  poles  coated  with 
mud  and  roofed  with  tule  thatch.  After  lending  a 
hand  at  this  enterprise,  the  willing  sailors  gave  their 
services  to  the  friars  at  the  mission  station,  and  put  up 
a  small  church  and  house  adjoining  it.  Thus  was  built 
the  first  settlement  of  San  Francisco! 

On  September  the  seventeenth  of  this  same  mem- 
orable year,  1776,  the  first  celebration  was  held,  the 
ceremony  of  taking  formal  possession  of  the  presidio 
for  King  Charles  III.  Imagine  that  picturesque 
gathering  by  the  Golden  Gate  I    Comandante  Moraga 


THE   PADRES   OF  SAINT   FRANCIS  7 

in  all  the  splendor  of  a  Spanish  officer's  costume; 
Commander  Quiros  of  the  San  Carlos,  also  gaily 
attired;  the  tonsured  Gray  Friars;  the  soldiers,  sailors, 
settlers  and  servants,  all  decked  in  festal  garb!  The 
mission  bells  were  rung;  the  two  clumsy  cannon  were 
fired;  there  were  volleys  of  musketry  and  singing  of 
hymns.  The  royal  standard  floated  in  the  fresh  breeze 
sweeping  in  from  the  sea.  A  cross  was  reared  and  a 
high  mass  celebrated.  Following  this  came  the  bar- 
becue with  an  abundance  of  joints  of  roasted  steer, 
tortillas  and  frijoles  seasoned  with  red  peppers,  and 
no  doubt  some  good  Spanish  wine  to  wash  them  down. 
San  Francisco  had  been  founded  to  extend  the  domin- 
ion of  the  king  of  Spain,  and  the  spiritual  influence  of 
Saint  Francis. 

Early  in  October  followed  a  second  celebration 
to  mark  the  founding  of  the  mission,  San  Francisco 
de  Assisi.  Padre  Palou  officiated,  while  the  same 
little  band  of  officers,  soldiers,  and  sailors  took  part  in 
the  solemnity.  Work  was  forthwith  commenced  on 
the  church,  but  the  task  of  making  Indian  converts 
was  beset  with  unusual  difficulties.  The  Padres  must 
have  been  reminded  of  the  old  receipt  for  cooking  a 
hare,  which  runs :   First  catch  your  hare,  etc. 

A  fight  between  two  tribes  had  left  the  country 
practically  depopulated,  the  survivors  having  fled  on 
rafts  to  the  opposite  shores  of  the  bay.  Later  on,  when 
the  panic  subsided,  they  returned  to  harass  the  mission- 
aries, and  open  hostilities  were  only  averted  by  flogging 
and  subsequently  by  shooting  one  or  two  of  the 
recalcitrant  natives.  In  this  discouraging  fashion  the 
work  among  the  Indians  commenced.  Nevertheless, 
one  by  one  they  were  taken  into  the  fold,  until,  when 
some  five  years  later  Padre  Junipero  Serra  came  up 
from  Monterey,  sixty-nine  natives  were  laboring  at 
the  mission  and  ready  for  confirmation. 

The  spiritual  training  of  the  Indians  was  of  a  sort 
that  taxed  but  little  the  intellectual  powers  of  these 
unsophisticated  people.  Certain  rites  and  ceremonies 
they  soon  learned  to  imitate,  coupled  with  the  recita- 


8  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

tion  of  a  few  Spanish  or  Latin  hymns  and  prayers. 
The  application  of  the  lash  served  to  increase  the  de- 
votion of  the  inattentive  and  a  strict  discipline  enforced 
by  rigorous  punishment  made  all  the  mission  Indians 
regular  church  goers.  Food  of  the  simplest  character 
was  served  them,  barley  and  maize  with  peas  and  beans 
constituting  the  staples. 

Some  of  the  men  toiled  in  the  grain  fields  and 
learned  the  simple  art  of  letting  the  wind  winnow 
their  wheat;  others  became  expert  vaqueros,  riding 
after  cattle,  throwing  the  reata  and  rounding  up  the 
herd;  still  others  were  trained  as  boatmen  and  handled 
big  barges  on  the  treacherous  waters  of  the  bay.  The 
women  spun  the  wool  which  the  men  sheared,  and  wove 
blankets  and  fabrics.  They  sewed  garments  and  were 
busied  in  making  drawn-work  altar  cloths  and  doing 
other  handiwork. 

Thus  all  were  kept  employed  from  early  mass  to 
vespers.  With  the  help  of  the  Indians,  low  mission 
buildings  of  adobe,  covered  over  with  plaster  and 
roofed  with  tile,  were  constructed  about  the  church 
to  serve  as  workshops  and  dwellings.  The  simplest 
of  clothes  were  provided  for  the  people.  When  a  girl 
was  considered  of  a  marriageable  age  she  was  allowed 
to  choose  one  of  a  number  of  the  young  men  and  they 
were  straightway  mated. 

A  flourishing  trade  in  hides  and  tallow  grew  up 
between  the  padres  and  the  Yankee  skippers  from 
around  the  Horn,  and  this,  together  with  contributions 
from  the  Pious  Fund  made  the  mission  prosper.  In 
1825  the  establishment  was  reputed  to  own  seventy- 
nine  thousand  sheep,  a  thousand  tame  horses  and  twice 
as  many  breeding  mares,  as  well  as  hogs,  working 
oxen  and  a  large  store  of  wheat,  merchandise,  and  some 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in  hard  cash.  Such  was 
the  prosperity  of  the  mission  of  San  Francisco  at  the 
time  when  Mexico  gained  her  independence  from 
Spain,  but  all  this  temporal  power  of  the  Franciscans 
proved  but  a  passing  phase  in  the  working  out  of  a 
greater  destiny  for  the  city  by  the  Golden  Gate. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS 


ICHARD  HENRY  DANA,  in  his 
classic  of  California,  "Two  Years 
Before  the  Mast,"  gives  a  glimpse  of 
San  Francisco  at  the  close  of  the  year 
1835.  In  the  course  of  his  narrative 
he  thus  describes  his  first  impression 
of  the  lonely  port: 
"About  thirty  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  bay,* 
and  on  the  southeast  side,  is  a  high  point  upon  which 
the  presidio  is  built.  Behind  this  is  the  harbor  in 
which  trading  vessels  anchor,  and  near  it,  the  mission 
of  San  Francisco,  and  a  newly  begun  settlement,  mostly 
of  Yankee  Californians,  called  Yerba  Buena,  which 
promises  well.  Here,  at  anchor,  and  the  only  vessel, 
was  a  brig  under  Russian  colors,  from  Asitka,  in 
Russian  America,  which  had  come  down  to  winter, 
and  to  take  in  a  supply  of  tallow  and  grain,  great 
quantities  of  which  latter  article  are  raised  in  the 
missions  at  the  head  of  the  bay." 

This  was  the  San  Francisco  of  1835 — a  Spanish 
presidio  on  the  shore  of  what  was  afterwards  so  pro- 
phetically named  the  Golden  Gate,  a  mission  establish- 
ment two  or  three  miles  away  where  a  few  score 
Indians  were  employed,  and  a  hamlet  known  as  Yerba 
Buena,  consisting  of  a  handful  of  Yankee  traders,  on 
the  rim  of  the  bay!  As  late  as  1846  the  place  had 
grown  so  little  that  not  more  than  twenty  or  thirty 
houses  of  all  descriptions  lined  the  beach.    Mud  flats, 

*In  Dana's  time  the  coast  line  from  Point  Reyes  to  Ocean  Beach,  with 
the  Farallones  off  shore  breaking  the  full  force  of  the  sea,  was  known  as 
the  outer  harbor  or  bay.  It  is  evidently  to  this  he  refers,  since  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Golden  Gate  to  the  anchorage  is  only  from  five  to  nine  miles. 


IO  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

laid  bare  at  low  tide,  extended  for  some  distance  out 
from  the  shore,  and  the  only  landing-place  for  boats 
was  at  Clark's  Point  where  rocks  jutted  out  into  the 
water.  This  was  near  the  present  site  of  Broadway 
Wharf.  A  bay  reached  up  into  the  valley  now 
traversed  by  Market  Street,  cutting  across  the  present 
line  of  First  Street  and  penetrating  as  far  as  the  border 
of  Montgomery. 

In  order  to  understand  the  sudden  transition  of 
this  quiet  little  Spanish  settlement  into  a  lawless 
frontier  town  of  America,  and  from  that  into  a  great 
metropolis  where  the  commerce  of  the  Pacific  centers, 
a  brief  glance  at  the  history  of  the  time  is  necessary. 
For  years  Mexico  had  been  disturbed  by  revolutionary 
upheavals.  In  1821  these  culminated  in  the  recogni- 
tion by  Spain  of  the  independence  of  the  land  from 
which  for  centuries  she  had  drawn  such  store  of 
treasure.  Three  years  later  a  liberal  constitution  was 
adopted,  making  the  country  a  republic. 

The  republican  government  was  on  the  whole 
unfavorable  to  the  church,  but  for  the  first  ten  years 
no  action  hostile  to  the  missions  of  California  was 
taken.  A  comandante-general  acted  as  governor  of 
the  territory,  but  the  chief  power  was  still  lodged  in 
the  hands  of  the  padres.  During  the  year  1833,  how- 
ever, the  Mexican  Congress  enacted  a  law  providing 
for  the  dispersion  of  the  Franciscan  fathers  of  Cal- 
ifornia, and  a  division  of  their  vast  principalities 
among  the  settlers  and  Indians.  This  so-called  order 
of  secularization  was  not  put  into  immediate  execution. 
Revolutions  and  rapid  changes  in  Mexican  politics 
delayed  it  somewhat,  but  the  padres  realized  that  the 
inevitable  was  at  hand  and  wasted  the  mission  property 
in  a  most  reckless  fashion.  Cattle  were  slaughtered 
in  vast  numbers  for  their  hides,  the  buildings  were 
neglected,  treasure  was  sent  to  Mexico  and  Spain;  so 
that,  when  the  blow  fell  a  few  years  later,  the  missions 
were  already  stripped  of  their  wealth.  Soon  the 
Indians  scattered,  the  padres  left  the  country  and  the 
broad  fields  of  the  California  valleys  fell  into  the  hands 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS  II 

of  the  Mexican  ranchers  who  governed  their  princi- 
palities like  the  barons  of  old.  These  were  the  days 
of  boundless  hospitality,  when  a  man's  family  was  as 
large  as  the  surrounding  population,  when  every 
stranger  was  welcome  at  the  hacienda  and  became  a 
guest  for  as  long  as  he  chose  to  stay.  Those  happy 
patriarchal  times  on  the  ranches  of  California,  how 
they  vanished  at  the  coming  of  the  gringo,  the  stranger 
from  across  the  plains! 

By  the  year  1840  a  number  of  Americans  had 
found  their  way  to  the  remote  Mexican  territory  of 
California.  They  had  come  as  trappers  and  traders 
and  were  a  hardy,  adventurous  set  of  men.  That  the 
suspicion  and  jealousy  of  the  dons  was  not  unfounded, 
subsequent  events  soon  demonstrated.  The  Russians 
had  pushed  down  the  coast  from  their  fur-trading  posts 
in  Alaska,  and  were  narrowly  watched  by  the  Mexicans 
until,  in  1841,  they  sold  their  California  possessions 
to  a  Swiss  settler,  Captain  John  A.  Sutter.  Another 
element,  however,  was  added  to  the  population  by  the 
visits  of  the  American  whalers  at  San  Francisco. 

So  strained  had  become  the  relations  between  the 
Mexicans  and  the  Americans  that  about  a  hundred 
English-speaking  people  were  arrested  at  San  Fran- 
cisco on  one  occasion  by  order  of  the  governor.  They 
were  sent  to  Monterey  as  prisoners  and  subsequently 
many  of  them  were  carried  south  into  Mexico  where 
they  remained  for  varying  periods  without  trial.  Such 
violent  efforts  to  discourage  immigration  had  little 
effect  in  staying  the  tide  which  had  already  set  in. 
Fremont,  the  pathfinder,  had  crossed  the  plains  and 
had  written  glowing  accounts  of  his  adventures  on  mesa 
and  prairie.  Farnham,  another  early  comer,  described 
the  Mexican  territory  of  California  in  enthusiastic 
terms.  They  told  of  the  wonderful  landscape,  of  the 
great  Sierra  forests  and  the  herds  of  deer,  elk  and  wild 
horses  that  made  their  home  on  the  broad  valleys  of 
the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin.  Societies  were 
formed  in  the  East  to  promote  immigration  to  the  new 
country. 


12  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

The  American  flag  was  first  raised  at  Monterey 
by  Commodore  Jones  of  the  sloop-of-war  Cyane. 
Hearing  that  the  United  States  was  at  war  with  Mexico, 
he  put  up  the  stars  and  stripes  and  proclaimed  the 
territory  American.  A  day  later,  becoming  convinced 
of  his  error,  he  retracted  and  apologized  to  the  best  of 
his  ability. 

When,  in  April,  1846,  the  war  which  had  for  some 
years  been  brewing  between  the  United  States  and 
Mexico,  finally  reached  the  stage  of  active  hostility, 
an  independent  war  of  conquest  had  already  been 
waged  in  California  by  General  John  C.  Fremont 
(then  a  colonel  in  the  American  army)  in  co-operation 
with  Commodore  Robert  T.  Stockton  of  the  navy. 
Fremont  had  been  sent  with  a  party  of  army  engineers 
on  an  exploring  expedition,  to  map  new  routes  from 
the  East  to  California.  In  pursuit  of  this  work  he 
arrived  near  Monterey  at  a  time  when  relations  be- 
tween the  Mexicans  and  gringos  were  much  strained. 
General  Castro,  the  comandante  of  Monterey,  sus- 
pected ulterior  motives,  but  Fremont  went  in  person 
to  explain  the  peaceful  nature  of  his  mission.  Pro- 
ceeding on  his  route,  he  found  a  band  of  hostile  Indians 
opposing  him  and  received  a  report  that  Castro  was 
planning  an  attack  on  his  rear.  A  man  of  sudden 
resolution  and  indomitable  will,  he  decided  upon  the 
hazardous  plan  of  declaring  war  against  California 
with  his  miniature  army  of  sixty-two  men. 

Following  this  alarming  move  on  the  part  of 
Fremont  came  the  raising  of  the  Bear  Flag  at  Sonoma. 
William  B.  Ide  was  made  commander  of  the  troops 
there  and  issued  a  proclamation  calling  upon  all  citi- 
zens to  rally  around  his  standard.  General  Castro 
planned  to  attack  Sonoma,  but  Fremont,  who  had  left 
the  town  feebly  garrisoned,  hastily  returned  and  held 
the  Mexicans  at  bay.  On  July  4,  1846,  the  assembly 
of  Americans  at  Sonoma  declared  their  independence, 
made  Fremont  governor,  and  issued  a  formal  declara- 
tion of  war. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS  1 3 

It  would  carry  us  too  far  from  the  immediate 
history  of  San  Francisco  to  describe  the  numerous 
complications  which  followed  during  the  Mexican 
war, — the  work  of  Commodore  Sloat  in  seizing  Mon- 
terey, the  raising  of  the  American  flag  in  Portsmouth 
Square  by  Captain  Montgomery,  the  military  opera- 
tions in  the  South  under  Commodore  Stockton  and 
Colonel  Fremont,  when,  with  a  forlorn-hope  band,  they 
marched  through  a  hostile  country  and  conquered  it, 
the  arrival  of  General  Kearny  and  subsequent  mis- 
understandings which  led  to  the  courtmartial  of 
Fremont.  By  the  treaty  of  1848  the  country  became 
American  territory  and  the  last  political  obstacle  to 
the  emigration  of  American  pioneers  was  removed. 

There  is  something  pathetically  tragic  about  the 
discovery  of  gold  in  California.  For  centuries,  Spanish 
adventurers  had  been  the  advance  guard  of  the  world 
in  finding  treasure.  El  Dorado  of  song  and  story  was 
ever  before  them.  But  in  California  they  had  seen  no 
trace  of  the  precious  metal.  In  January  of  the  very 
year  when  the  land  was  wrested  from  Mexico,  1848, 
the  news  reached  San  Francisco  which  ere  long  set 
the  whole  world  into  a  fever  of  excitement.  James 
W.  Marshall,  an  employee  of  Captain  Sutter,  the 
Swiss  settler,  had  discovered  gold  in  large  quantities 
amid  the  sand  of  the  American  River,  a  tributary  of 
the  Sacramento.  When  the  report  was  confirmed  by 
the  shipment  of  considerable  quantities  of  the  coveted 
dust  to  San  Francisco,  a  wild  scramble  to  the  spot 
ensued.  The  news  spread  in  all  directions  like  an 
epidemic,  despite  the  remoteness  of  the  land.  Ships 
carried  it  to  the  four  corners  of  the  Pacific.  From 
Chili  and  Peru  came  dark-eyed  mestizos.  Whalers 
and  traders  brought  their  quota  of  Kanakas  and 
Marquesans.  It  is  said  that  the  Hawaiian  Islanders 
were  so  stirred  by  the  news  of  gold  in  California  that 
by  the  month  of  November,  1848,  twenty-seven  vessels 
had  sailed  for  San  Francisco,  carrying  some  six  hun- 
dred people,  while  four  thousand  persons  are  reported 


14  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

to  have  gone  from  Chili  that  year  to  work  in  the  mines 
of  the  new  Dorado. 

Meanwhile  word  reached  the  Eastern  seaboard 
of  America,  and  the  great  westward  wave  of  migra- 
tion swept  across  the  plains.  Stillman  says  that  never 
since  the  Crusades  was  such  a  movement  known. 
The  host,  estimated  at  from  twenty-five  to  forty  thou- 
sand people,  traveled  in  prairie  schooners  over  that 
interminable  stretch  of  plain,  of  desert,  and  moun- 
tain, braving  the  hardships  of  hunger  and  thirst,  the 
perils  of  predatory  Indian  tribes,  the  dangers  of  the 
road  which  beset  them  from  start  to  finish.  Women 
and  children  shared  with  the  men  the  privations  of 
that  terrible  overland  trail.  Some  were  killed  by 
the  Indians,  some  perished  of  sheer  exhaustion,  others 
were  storm-bound  by  the  high  Sierra  snows,  and  died 
by  inches,  resorting  to  cannibalism  in  their  maddened 
desperation. 

At  the  same  time  that  this  multitude  was  cross- 
ing the  plains,  ships  were  fitted  out  for  the  long  voy- 
age around  Cape  Horn,  and  old-fashioned  side  paddle- 
wheel  steamers  were  put  on  the  run  to  carry  people 
by  way  of  Panama.  Thus  from  every  State  of  the 
Union  and  from  various  parts  of  Europe  came  adven- 
turous spirits,  all  expecting  to  rock  the  sands  of  the 
Sacramento  and  make  their  fortunes. 

The  city  of  San  Francisco  grew  almost  in  a  day. 
It  was  a  city  of  tents  and  gambling  houses — a  raw, 
crude,  lawless  place  with  the  most  cosmopolitan  pop- 
ulation the  world  has  ever  seen.  Here  if  anywhere 
was  a  confusion  of  tongues  that  would  rival  Babel. 
Bayard  Taylor,  who  came  by  steamer  in  1849  as  cor- 
respondent for  a  New  York  paper,  thus  describes  the 
scene : 

"We  scrambled  up  through  piles  of  luggage,  and 
among  the  crowd  collected  to  witness  our  arrival, 
picked  out  two  Mexicans  to  carry  our  trunks  to  a 
hotel.  The  barren  side  of  the  hill  before  us  was  cov- 
ered with  tents  and  canvas  houses,  and  nearly  in  front 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS  1 5 

a  large  two-story  building  displayed  the  sign  'Fre- 
mont Family  Hotel.' 

"As  yet  we  were  only  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town. 
Crossing  the  shoulder  of  the  hill,  the  view  extended 
around  the  curve  of  the  bay,  and  hundreds  of  tents 
and  houses  appeared,  scattered  all  over  the  heights, 
and  along  the  shore  for  more  than  a  mile.  A  furious 
wind  was  blowing  down  through  a  gap  in  the  hills, 
filling  the  street  with  clouds  of  dust.  On  every  side 
stood  buildings  of  all  kinds,  begun  or  half  finished, 
and  the  greater  part  of  them  mere  canvas  sheds,  open 
in  front,  and  covered  with  all  kinds  of  signs,  in  all 
languages.  Great  quantities  of  goods  were  piled  up 
in  the  open  air,  for  want  of  a  place  to  store  them. 
The  streets  were  full  of  people  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
and  of  as  diverse  and  bizarre  a  character  as  the 
houses;  Yankees  of  every  possible  variety,  native  Cal- 
ifornians  in  serapes  and  sombreros,  Chilians,  Sonori- 
ans,  Kanakas  from  Hawaii,  Chinese  with  long  tails, 
Malays  armed  with  their  everlasting  creeses,  and 
others  in  whose  embrowned  and  bearded  visages  it 
was  impossible  to  recognize  any  especial  nationality. 
We  came  at  last  into  the  plaza,  now  dignified  by  the 
name  of  Portsmouth  Square.  It  lies  on  the  slant  side 
of  the  hill,  and  from  a  high  pole  in  front  of  a  long 
one-story  adobe  building  used  as  the  Custom  House, 
the  American  flag  was  flying.  On  the  lower  side 
stood  the  Parker  House,  an  ordinary  frame  house  of 
about  sixty  feet  front — and  toward  its  entrance  we 
directed  our  course." 

Bayard  Taylor  tells  of  the  chaotic  state  of  city 
streets  and  of  all  that  goes  to  the  making  of  a  metrop- 
olis of  canvas  and  packing  boxes.  He  itemizes  some 
of  the  rents  during  that  feverish  year.  The  Parker 
House  yielded  a  hundred  and  ten  thousand  dollars 
annually,  at  least  sixty  thousand  of  which  was  paid 
by  gamblers  who  held  nearly  all  the  second  story.  A 
canvas  tent  fifteen  by  twenty-five  feet  in  size,  called 
El  Dorado,  was  leased  to  gamblers  for  forty  thousand 


1 6  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

dollars  a  year.  Provisions  and  wages  were  propor- 
tionate; extravagance,  profligacy  and  gaming  were 
the  order  of  the  day. 

The  winter  of  1849  was  the  most  notable  in  the 
history  of  San  Francisco.  The  rains  were  unprece- 
dentedly  heavy  and  the  miserable  streets  became  im- 
passable bogs.  Horses  were  hopelessly  mired  and 
left  to  die.  Kegs,  boxes  and  rubbish  of  all  sorts  were 
thrown  into  the  worst  mud-holes  to  form  stepping 
stones  for  pedestrians.  The  tent  city  was  of  the  most 
temporary  and  inadequate  description.  Men  leaving 
for  the  mines  were  obliged  to  travel  by  sailboat  up 
the  bay  and  Sacramento  River,  a  tedious  journey  of 
days  and  sometimes  weeks.  Municipal  affairs  were 
in  such  a  state  of  chaos  that  at  one  time  there  were 
three  town  councils  in  the  city. 

Out  of  all  this  hurly-burly  and  confusion  of  the 
mushroom  metropolis,  matters  were  presently  reduced 
to  at  least  a  semblance  of  order.  During  nine  months 
of  this  year,  two  hundred  and  thirty-three  ships  ar- 
rived from  the  Atlantic  Coast  and  three  hundred  and 
sixteen  from  Pacific  ports.  As  most  of  these  vessels 
were  deserted  by  their  crews,  who  all  rushed  for  the 
mines,  the  fleet  of  ships  anchored  in  the  harbor  made 
an  imposing  appearance.  A  line  of  steamers  was 
also  put  on  by  the  Pacific  Mail  Steamship  Company 
during  this  year,  leaving  monthly  by  way  of  Panama. 
Still,  the  difficulties  of  crossing  the  isthmus  by  row 
boat  and  pack  train  and  the  dangers  of  fever  there, 
made  many  people  prefer  the  longer  route  around 
Cape  Horn. 

During  this  period  of  excitement  and  disorder, 
an  organization  of  ruffians  known  as  the  "Hounds" 
terrorized  the  city.  They  marched  through  the 
streets  professing  to  be  upholders  of  the  rights  of 
Americans  as  against  the  foreigners,  and,  with  this 
pretext  to  shield  them,  attacked  and  looted  tents, 
chiefly  of  the  Mexicans  and  Chilians.  Emboldened 
by   success,    they   established    headquarters,    changed 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS  1 7 

their  name  from  Hounds  to  Regulators,  paraded  the 
streets  with  drum,  fife  and  banners  by  day,  and  robbed 
and  murdered  by  night.  When,  in  July,  1849,  they 
had  become  so  fierce  and  desperate  as  to  terrorize  the 
whole  city,  a  public  meeting  in  Portsmouth  Square 
was  called  by  the  Alcalde.  Those  present  formed 
themselves  into  a  voluntary  police  force  to  punish  the 
desperados.  Many  of  the  worst  offenders  were 
speedily  arrested  and  imprisoned  on  a  ship  in  the 
harbor.  An  impartial  jury  trial  followed  which  re- 
sulted in  the  conviction  of  a  number  of  the  ring- 
leaders to  imprisonment  with  hard  labor  for  varying 
terms. 

To  add  to  the  terrors  of  this  memorable  year,  a 
destructive  fire  swept  the  town,  fanned  by  a  high  wind, 
licking  up  the  flimsy  houses  of  frame  and  canvas. 
It  was  but  the  first  of  a  series  of  disasterous  conflagra- 
tions which  leveled  the  city  during  its  early  years. 
Painted  cloth  interiors  furnished  excellent  fuel  for  a 
big  blaze,  and  once  started,  the  hand  engines  worked 
by  a  host  of  resolute  young  fellows,  could  make  little 
stand  against  it.  During  the  three  years  from  1849 
to  1 85 1,  six  fires  devastated  the  city,  involving  a  loss 
amounting  in  some  cases  to  several  millions,  but  with 
wonderful  energy  and  courage  the  ruined  citizens 
went  to  work  each  time  to  rebuild,  improving  with 
every  bitter  experience,  until  they  learned  to  put  up 
brick  buildings  with  iron  shutters  on  doors  and  win- 
dows to  withstand  the  fearful  ravage  of  the  flames. 

That  some  of  these  fires  were  of  incendiary  origin, 
no  doubt  was  felt.  Despite  the  suppression  of  the 
Hounds,  lawlessness  grew  apace.  The  rush  to  the 
latest  gold  fields  had  attracted  numbers  of  fearless 
criminals  from  various  parts  of  the  world.  Australia 
was  a  penal  colony,  and  thence  in  particular  came  a 
crowd  of  villains  ready  for  robbery,  murder,  arson 
and  all  desperate  deeds.  They  frequented  the  water- 
front saloons  about  Broadway  and  Pacific  Street — a 
quarter  of  the  city  which  was  known  as  Sydney  Town 


1 8  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

— and  this  region  became  a  veritable  hotbed  of  crime. 
The  police  were  too  corrupt  and  inefficient  to  cope 
with  the  evil.  Judges  and  juries  failed  in  their  duty, 
and  although  over  a  hundred  murders  had  been  com- 
mitted, not  a  criminal  had  been  executed. 

So  terrible  had  the  demoralization  of  society 
become  that  desperate  measures  were  necessary  to 
restore  order.  In  this  period  of  stress  and  peril  a  band 
of  citizens  formed  the  world-famous  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee— an  association  as  they  themselves  declared 
"for  the  maintenance  of  the  peace  and  good  order  of 
society,  and  the  preservation  of  the  lives  and  prop- 
erty of  the  citizens  of  San  Francisco."  They  had 
been  organized  but  a  short  time  when  work  was 
found  for  them  to  accomplish.  John  Jenkins,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  gang  of  Sydney  Coves,  as  the  criminals 
from  Australia  were  termed,  entered  a  waterfront 
store  one  evening  and  carried  off  a  safe.  Pursued,  he 
took  to  a  boat.  Other  boats  were  close  upon  his  traces 
when  he  threw  his  plunder  overboard  and  submitted 
to  arrest.  The  safe  was  recovered,  thus  establishing 
the  guilt  of  the  prisoner  beyond  a  shadow  of  doubt. 
He  was  taken  to  the  rooms  of  the  Vigilance  Commit- 
tee on  Battery  Street  near  Pine.  Almost  immediately 
the  town  was  aroused  by  short  sharp  double  clangs  of 
the  Monumental  Fire  Engine  Company's  bell.  It 
was  the  signal  for  the  Vigilantes  to  assemble.  Swiftly 
they  responded.  At  the  door  only  those  who  could 
give  the  pass-word  were  admitted.  Outside  waited 
the  excited  crowd,  knowing  that  a  dramatic  moment 
in  the  history  of  the  city  was  at  hand.  From  ten  to 
twelve  o'clock  they  stood  about,  when,  at  the  midnight 
hour,  a  thrill  went  through  the  assembled  multitude. 
The  bell  of  the  California  Engine  House  was  tolling 
a  death-knell. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  later  when  Mr.  Brannan, 
one  of  the  committee,  came  out  and  announced  to  the 
people  that  the  prisoner  had  been  tried  and  found 
guilty.     Within    another    hour    the    committee,    all 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS  1 9 

armed,  marched  silently  forth  from  their  quarters, 
guarding  the  prisoner  in  their  midst.  Solemnly  they 
proceeded  through  those  dark  streets,  followed  by  the 
multitude,  to  the  Plaza.  A  rope  was  hastily  tied 
about  Jenkins'  neck  and  in  a  trice  the  other  end  was 
tossed  over  a  projecting  timber  of  a  low  adobe  house. 
The  prisoner  was  speedily  hoisted  up  and  the  rope, 
held  in  the  grasp  of  willing  arms,  suspended  him  for 
some  time  after  he  ceased  to  move.  The  thousand 
spectators  looked  on  in  silence  until  the  body  was  low- 
ered when  they  quietly  dispersed  to  their  homes. 

The  effect  of  this  dramatic  episode  was  electrify- 
ing. Most  of  the  sober-minded  of  the  community 
justified  the  violation  of  the  law.  All  but  one  of  the 
papers  sustained  the  Vigilance  Committee.  It  was 
the  spirit  of  the  people  asserting  itself  against  crime, 
but  in  defiance  of  constituted  authority. 

Other  executions  followed  in  rapid  succession 
during  1851.  A  month  later,  another  notorious  crim- 
inal, James  Stuart,  was  tried  by  the  committee  for  a 
number  of  offenses,  and  after  receiving  the  death  sen- 
tence confessed  his  crimes  and  admitted  the  justice  of 
the  punishment.  He  too  had  been  an  Australian  con- 
vict before  coming  to  San  Francisco.  Two  hours  of 
grace  were  given  him  after  the  passing  of  judgment, 
and  a  minister  was  left  alone  with  him.  The  whole 
committee,  four  hundred  in  number,  kept  the  death 
watch  in  an  adjoining  room.  Silent,  resolute,  they 
waited  there.  Not  a  whisper,  not  a  murmur  disturbed 
the  awful  calm  of  those  two  hours.  Then  the  pris- 
oner was  brought  forth  and,  closely  bound  and 
guarded,  was  marched  to  the  end  of  the  Market  Street 
Wharf  where  he  was  hung  up  to  a  derrick. 

Two  more  men  were  subsequently  hanged  together 
from  beams  out  of  the  windows  of  the  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee rooms,  a  crowd  of  six  thousand  people  witness- 
ing the  execution.  This,  with  the  deportation  of 
many  other  desperate  criminals,  ended  the  work  of 
the  first  committee  and  brought  a  state  of  tolerable 


20  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

security  to  life  and  property  out  of  the  condition  of 
anarchy  which  had  hitherto  existed. 

In  1856  the  disordered  state  of  society  called  a 
second  time  for  strenuous  measures  and  the  Vigilance 
Committee  was  revived.  Politics  were  at  this  period 
shockingly  corrupt,  and  professional  ballot  box  stuffers 
plied  their  vocation  with  impunity.  A  champion  of 
the  people  and  of  order  arose  in  the  person  of  James 
King,  the  popular  editor  of  the  Bulletin.  When,  one 
day,  the  Bulletin  made  a  statement,  undoubtedly  true, 
that  a  certain  office-holder  named  Casey  had  served 
a  term  in  Sing  Sing  Prison,  the  individual  cited 
attempted  to  clear  his  reputation  by  a  personal  attack 
on  the  editor.  He  therefore  shot  and  fatally  wounded 
King,  who  died  in  a  few  days.  Again  the  Vigilance 
Committee  formed,  larger,  stronger  and  better  organ- 
ized than  before.  They  went  to  work  in  the  same  cool 
determined  way  to  mete  out  justice  and  restore  order. 
The  execution,  after  due  trial,  of  Casey  and  another 
desperate  criminal,  Cora,  followed.  Dangerous  and 
disagreeable  as  was  the  work  of  the  committee,  they 
did  not  flinch  in  their  attempt  to  supplant  the  law 
with  a  more  just  and  effective  tribunal.  The  specta- 
cle of  an  organized  body  of  the  most  respected  citizens, 
formed  to  act  in  defiance  of  law  for  the  establishment 
of  order  in  the  community,  has  no  parallel  in  history. 
They  assumed  full  responsibility  for  their  actions, 
their  names  were  published  with  their  sanction,  and 
they  incurred  heavy  personal  expense  and  the  danger 
of  violent  retaliation  both  from  the  desperate  men 
whom  they  punished  and  the  law  which  they  defied. 

The  second  Vigilance  Committee  ended  its  work 
amid  great  enthusiasm  on  August  the  eighteenth,  1856. 
The  city  was  crowded  with  sightseers  from  the  sur- 
rounding country.  Flags  and  bunting  brightened  the 
streets.  So  strong  had  the  organization  become  that 
over  five  thousand  armed  men  passed  the  reviewing 
stand  of  the  Executive  Committee,  including  infan- 
try,  cavalry  and   artillery,   all   equipped   for   action. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS  21 

After  the  parade  the  Vigilance  Committee  disbanded, 
having  done  its  work  so  thoroughly  that  a  different 
moral  tone  pervaded  the  community. 

During  this  period,  and  in  fact  ever  since  1852, 
when  the  gold  output  of  California  culminated  in 
eighty-five  million  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  a  period  of  great  depression  occurred  in  San 
Francisco.  Although  over  seventy-four  million  dol- 
lars' worth  of  gold  were  obtained  in  1853  people 
became  alarmed  at  the  decline.  Miners  began  to 
economize,  trade  fell  off,  the  tide  of  immigration 
ceased  and  after  a  year  or  two  even  turned  the  other 
way.  Business  houses  failed;  Meiggs,  the  financier 
and  promoter  of  North  Beach,  became  a  defaulter  for 
immense  sums  and  made  his  dramatic  flight  to  Tahiti 
and  South  America.  The  whole  situation  in  San 
Francisco  looked  blue  enough.  It  was  not  until  the 
Bonanza  days  of  the  Civil  War  that  a  revival  of  pros- 
perity came  to  the  city. 

Thus  toiled  the  Argonauts  for  the  golden  fleece 
of  El  Dorado,  and  thus  out  of  chaos  and  the  strenuous 
life  of  the  frontier  grew  modern  San  Francisco. 


THE    RAILROAD    AND    BONANZA    KINGS 


FTER  the  decline  in  gold  production 
in  1853,  San  Francisco  passed  through 
a  period  of  comparative  quiet  and 
readjustment.  In  spite  of  the  fact 
that  for  a  number  of  years  the  annual 
gold  output  continued  above  fifty 
million  dollars,  public  confidence  in 
the  boundless  nature  of  the  supply  declined.  Dull 
times  fell  upon  San  Francisco  until  the  exciting  days 
of  the  Civil  War,  when  union  or  secession  became  a 
burning  issue.  The  State  decided  with  the  North  and 
showed  its  loyalty  by  subscribing  for  some  time  to  the 
Sanitary  Commission  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  a 
month,  half  the  sum  contributed  by  the  entire  coun- 
try. This  from  a  city  of  a  hundred  and  ten  thousand 
people  astonished  the  whole  nation. 

During  the  stirring  times  before  the  war,  the 
eagerness  to  receive  news  and  to  communicate  with 
far-away  friends  became  so  great  that  the  pony 
express  was  started.  Hardy  riders  carried  the  mail- 
bags  on  fast  broncos  all  the  long  and  dangerous  way 
from  Sacramento  to  St.  Joseph,  Missouri,  the  western 
terminus  of  the  railroad.  The  distance  was  covered 
in  the  surprisingly  short  interval  of  ten  and  a  half  days, 
making  the  time  from  San  Francisco  to  New  York 
only  thirteen  days. 

Still  the  people  of  California  realized  the  neces- 
sity for  closer  relations  with  their  kinsmen  across  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  a  railroad  was  the  issue  of  the 
day.  Congress,  appreciating  the  strategic  importance 
of  a  transcontinental  system,  listened  to  the  demands 
of  California  and  passed  a  bill  for  the  construction 


THE  RAILROAD  AND  BONANZA  KINGS  23 

of  the  road.  In  1863  work  on  what  seemed  an  almost 
hopeless  undertaking  was  commenced  at  Sacramento. 
A  small  company  of  men  who  had  been  successful  in 
business  enterprises  in  Sacramento,  notably  Leland 
Stanford,  C.  P.  Huntington,  Mark  Hopkins,  Charles 
Crocker  and  E.  B.  Crocker,  secured  enormous  con- 
cessions from  the  Government  both  in  land  and  money, 
for  building  the  Central  Pacific  Road,  while  another 
company  received  similar  grants  for  constructing  the 
Union  Pacific  Road,  starting  at  the  eastern  end  of  the 
line.  The  dramatic  race  across  the  continent  in  the 
construction  of  these  roads,  each  of  which  was  to 
have  all  the  line  it  had  laid  up  to  the  point  of  meet- 
ing, ended  on  the  desert  near  the  Great  Salt  Lake, 
where,  with  due  ceremony,  in  May,  1869,  Leland 
Stanford  drove  the  last  spike  in  the  line  which  united 
California  with  the  East. 

It  was  indeed  an  auspicious  time  for  Califor- 
nia, but  San  Francisco  was  disappointed  with  the 
result.  The  directors  of  the  road  lived,  during  the 
first  few  years,  at  Sacramento.  An  effort,  the  second 
in  the  history  of  the  city,  was  made  by  people  inter- 
ested in  Benicia,  to  make  that  place  a  rival  of  San 
Francisco,  and  to  have  the  overland  terminus  there. 
Furthermore,  the  intention  of  the  Central  Pacific 
directors  to  make  Goat  Island  their  approach  to  San 
Francisco,  connecting  it  by  ferry  with  the  city,  was 
so  hotly  contested  that  the  permission  of  Congress  was 
withheld.  Instead  of  the  expected  boom  upon  the 
completion  of  the  road,  San  Francisco  suffered  a  most 
disastrous  panic. 

After  the  decline  of  gold  in  California,  specula- 
tive interest  in  the  precious  metals  was  revived  by  the 
discovery  in  Nevada  of  vast  deposits  of  silver.  As 
these  mines  were  largely  owned  and  controlled  in  San 
Francisco,  the  market  in  silver  stocks  became  a 
gambling  enterprise  on  a  vast  scale.  Fortunes  were 
made  and  lost  in  a  day  and  the  prosperity  of  San 
Francisco  was  dependent  upon  the  reports  of  the  out- 


24  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

look  in  Virginia  City.  In  1862  the  Comstock  Lode 
produced  six  million  dollars  in  silver.  Speculation 
in  the  mines  of  this  region  was  so  great  that,  in  the 
following  year,  stocks  of  one  company  sold  at  six 
thousand  three  hundred  dollars  a  share.  Of  course 
a  panic  ensued,  although  the  yield  of  the  Nevada 
mines  in  1864  reached  sixteen  million  dollars. 

Ten  years  later  all  this  fever  of  speculation  was 
eclipsed  by  the  vast  yield  of  the  Comstock  Lode. 
Fabulous  sums  were  taken  from  the  Consolidated 
Virginia  and  the  Gold  Hill  Bonanzas.  In  less  than 
four  years  the  Belcher  and  Crown  Point  mines  had 
produced  forty  million  dollars.  Then  came  the  Con- 
solidated Virginia,  paying  monthly  dividends  of  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars.  So  wild  was  the  excitement 
that  the  combined  value  of  the  Comstock  shares  is  said 
to  have  increased  during  two  months  at  the  rate  of  a 
million  dollars  a  day. 

This  was  the  time  when  the  bonanza  kings  reaped 
their  harvest.  The  most  spectacular  of  the  fortunes 
made  thus  were  amassed  by  two  San  Franciscans,  J.  C. 
Flood  and  W.  S.  O'Brien.  They  began  investing  in  a 
small  way  as  early  as  1862  in  the  Kentuck  mine,  but 
it  was  not  until  some  years  later,  when  associated  with 
two  practical  miners  of  Virginia  City,  J.  W.  Mackey 
and  J.  G.  Fair,  that  their  operations  became  so  large 
as  to  attract  public  attention.  At  the  time  they  se- 
cured possession  of  the  Consolidated  Virginia,  its 
shares  had  a  mere  nominal  value,  since  it  had  yielded 
no  returns  and  showed  little  prospect  of  so  doing. 
Luck  was  with  them  in  the  venture,  and  when  a 
fabulously  rich  vein  was  unearthed  the  stock  rose  so 
that  the  four  men  found  themselves  possessed  of 
princely  fortunes. 

Happily  for  California  the  day  is  over  when  her 
prosperity  is  dependent  upon  lucky  mining  strikes. 
The  mineral  output  of  the  State  for  1900  was  over 
thirty-two  million  dollars,  no  inconsiderable  sum  even 
in  comparison  with  the  great  yields  of  the  past,  but 


THE  RAILROAD  AND  BONANZA  KINGS  25 

today  the  State  relies  upon  such  a  diversity  of  products 
that  the  vicissitudes  of  mining  cannot  shake  her.  In 
1900  the  value  of  the  cured  fruit  crop  was  eleven 
million  dollars,  only  four  million  less  than  the  gold 
output  for  the  same  year,  and  this  is  but  an  index  of 
the  productiveness  in  other  horticultural  and  pas- 
toral lines.  Wheat,  wool,  oil,  borax,  beet-sugar,  lumber 
and  building-stone,  are  among  the  many  products 
which  contribute  to  the  wealth  of  California. 

With  this  brief  glance  at  the  stirring  incidents 
of  the  San  Francisco  of  the  past,  it  will  be  in  order 
now  to  inspect  the  city  and  its  environs  as  they  appear 
today.  A  community  of  four  hundred  thousand  peo- 
ple, with  boundless  commercial  opportunities,  with  a 
country  of  rare  productiveness  all  about  it,  San 
Francisco  looks  to  the  future  for  her  history  as  well 
as  to  the  past. 


THE  PEERLESS  BAY 


FREE  sweep  of  water  navigable  for 
the  largest  ocean  vessels  over  a  stretch 
of  well-nigh  sixty  miles;  a  land- 
locked harbor  with  but  a  single  pass- 
age a  mile  in  width  leading  to  its 
sequestered  waters ;  a  haven  cut  off  by 
hills  and  mountains  from  the  ocean, 
yet  so  accessible  that  the  largest  steamers  can  enter  on 
all  tides — such  is  San  Francisco  Bay  with  its  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  square  miles  of  water!  A  quarter  of 
the  population  of  California  dwells  on  its  shores. 
With  a  width  varying  from  seven  to  twelve  miles,  it 
lies  just  within  the  Coast  Mountain  spurs  that  em- 
brace it,  and  in  that  most  temperate  of  latitudes,  the 
thirty-eighth  parallel.  Its  upper  reaches  are  subdi- 
vided into  two  inner  bays — San  Pablo  and  Suisun. 
The  former,  with  a  diameter  of  some  ten  miles,  is 
the  northern  end  of  the  great  waterway,  while  the 
latter,  connected  by  the  narrow  Carquinez  Straits,  lies 
to  the  eastward  and  appears  like  a  huge  reservoir  into 
which  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin  Rivers  pour 
their  flood. 

Such  is  the  harbor  which  Portala  first  looked 
upon  from  the  heights  in  1769,  and  into  which  the 
little  Spanish  ship  San  Carlos  sailed  in  1775.  Great 
are  the  changes  which  have  taken  place  since  then, 
but  we  of  today  are  only  on  the  threshold  of  the  civil- 
ization destined  to  flourish  here.  This  peerless  bay, 
accessible,  deep,  safe,  convenient,  large  enough  for  all 
the  navies  and  merchant  fleets  of  the  world  without 
crowding,  in  a  climate  free  from  winter  snow  and 
summer  heat,  surrounded  by  one  of  the  most  pro- 


THE  PEERLESS   BAY  27 

ductive  countries  known,  where  nature  is  lavish  alike 
of  her  fruits  and  precious  metals, — who  dare  set  a 
limit  upon  its  growth?  The  eyes  of  the  world  are 
upon  the  Pacific  now,  and  upon  the  United  States. 
San  Francisco  Bay  is  the  great  point  of  departure  for 
America  into  the  Pacific,  and  as  such  is  destined  to 
be  one  of  the  great  world  harbors  of  the  years  to  come. 

What  wonder  that  many  explorers  sailed  along 
the  California  coast  and  failed  to  perceive  the  nar- 
row break  in  the  rocks  through  which  the  Sacra- 
mento River  rolls  to  the  sea?  Fifteen  miles  away, 
more  or  less,  the  Berkeley  Hills  rise  from  the  farther 
shore  of  the  bay,  forming  a  background,  which,  viewed 
from  the  ocean  on  a  misty  day,  appears  to  effectually 
close  up  the  mile-wide  gap  which  alone  affords  an 
entrance  to  the  broad  expanse  of  secluded  water. 
Barren  dreary  rocks  flank  the  shores,  fog-hung  and 
storm-worn,  inhabited  by  cormorants  and  murres. 
To  the  south,  guarding  the  entrance,  is  Point  Lobos, 
with  the  Seal  Rocks  off  shore  where  herds  of  sea 
lions  bask  in  the  sun  or  fish  in  the  adjacent  water.  To 
the  north  is  Point  Bonita,  where  a  lighthouse  and  fog 
horn  warn  mariners  to  avoid  the  rocks.  Through 
the  narrows  the  tide  runs  like  a  millrace.  An  old- 
fashioned  brick  fort  stands  close  by  the  water  at  the 
inner  point  of  the  strait  on  the  city  shore.  It  is  now 
abandoned,  but  upon  bluffs  to  right  and  left  are  ter- 
raced embankments  behind  which  lurk  batteries  of 
immense  disappearing  guns,  while  just  inside  the 
Gate  in  the  midst  of  the  bay  is  a  rocky  islet  which  has 
been  converted  into  a  citadel  commanding  the  entire 
channel.  This  is  the  picturesque  Alcatraz  Island,  a 
point  of  peculiar  strategic  importance  in  the  fortifi- 
cation of  the  bay. 

On  either  side  of  the  Golden  Gate  a  peninsula 
juts  from  the  mainland,  with  the  sea  to  westward  and 
the  bay  to  eastward.  The  northern  peninsula  is 
occupied  by  Mount  Tamalpais  and  the  Bolinas  Ridge, 
with  villages  and  charming  residence  suburbs  nestling 


28  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

at  its  base  (Belvedere,  Sausalito,  Mill  Valley  and 
San  Rafael)  while  upon  the  hills  of  the  southern 
tongue  of  land  is  the  city  of  San  Francisco.  Straight 
away  eastward  on  the  far  shore  of  the  bay,  stretching 
along  the  plain  and  foothills  of  the  low  spurs  of  the 
Coast  Mountains,  is  a  group  of  towns  and  cities  which 
are  practically  fused  into  one,  although  still  retaining 
their  separate  names  and  municipal  governments. 
The  principal  of  these  are  Alameda,  Oakland  and 
Berkeley,  with  an  aggregate  population  of  about  one 
hundred  thousand. 

San  Francisco  Bay  is  an  ever-changing  pageant 
of  gray  and  blue,  with  purple  hills  on  its  margin  vary- 
ing with  the  season  from  green  to  brown.  The  same 
point  of  view  seldom  appears  twice  alike.  Seasons, 
weather,  hour,  all  stamp  their  imprint  upon  it  and 
make  it  live.  It  is  the  more  companionable  because 
of  its  many  surprises.  You  think  you  have  followed 
it  through  the  whole  gamut  of  its  changes,  grave  and 
gay,  veiled  and  transparent,  calm  and  tempestuous, 
when  behold  the  next  hour  has  transfigured  the  scene 
and  presents  an  aspect  before  undreamed! 

Who  shall  undertake  to  describe  this  palpitating 
wonder  of  water  and  cloud,  margined  with  billowy 
ranges?  At  best  it  must  be  but  a  few  fleeting  impress- 
ions that  the  pen  transfixes.  In  summer-time  when 
many  rainless  months  succeed,  the  hills  are  sear  and 
brown.  The  monsoon  sweeps  in  through  the  Golden 
Gate  and  spends  its  refreshing  salt  breath  upon  the 
Berkeley  Range,  flecking  the  dull  greenish-blue  tide 
with  white.  Off  to  the  south  the  water  seems  to  reach 
away  to  a  misty  dreamland.  Somewhere  down  there 
is  the  prosperous  city  of  San  Jose,  but  of  this  the  eye 
gives  no  hint.  Northwards  there  is  a  long  rolling 
boundary  line  of  pale  purple  hills.  Red  Rock,  an 
island  in  the  bay,  stands  up  as  a  striking  bit  of  con- 
trasting color.  We  can  distinguish  the  dark  bands 
cjf  eucalyptus  groves  high  up  on  the  tawny  slopes  of 
the  Berkeley  Hills,  and  the  settlement  below  dotting 


THE   PEERLESS   BAY  29 

the  foothills  for  some  miles.  To  the  northwest  is 
Tamalpais,  rising  gracefully  to  its  2,600  feet,  a  pale 
blue  mountain  mass  with  keenly  chiseled  profile,  slant- 
ing down  to  the  north  in  a  fine  sweep,  with  the  hills 
of  Angel  Island  in  the  foreground.  In  a  secluded  nook 
at  the  northern  end  of  the  bay,  opposite  the  little  town 
of  Vallejo,  lies  the  Mare  Island  Navy  Yard,  with  its 
drydock,  repair  shops,  and  equipment  for  the  naval 
base  of  the  Pacific  squadron. 

From  Black  Point,  the  military  reservation  just 
within  the  Golden  Gate,  the  profile  of  San  Francisco 
is  built  up  in  big  terrace  lines  to  the  quaint  old  frame 
battlemented  structure  on  the  bold  rocky  summit  of 
Telegraph  Hill.  Thence  in  long  sinuous  sags,  inter- 
rupted by  the  square  angles  of  houses  atop  the  ridge, 
it  runs;  streets  may  be  seen  plowing  through  the  banks 
of  buildings  up  the  steep  slopes.  The  turrets  of  the 
Mark  Hopkins  Institute  of  Art  stand  out  conspicu- 
ously on  the  summit  of  California  Street  Hill,  from 
which  point  the  ridge  falls  off  abruptly  to  the  low- 
land of  the  valley  followed  by  Market  Street.  The 
city's  main  thoroughfare  may  be  traced  from  afar 
by  three  landmarks — the  slender  gray  stone  clock 
tower  of  the  Ferry  Building,  the  high  domed  Spreckels 
Building  and  the  dome  of  the  City  Hall,  surmounted 
by  a  colossal  figure  of  Liberty.  This  dome  is  the 
third  highest  in  the  world,  rising  to  a  height  of  three 
hundred  and  thirty  feet,  and  is  a  graceful  point  in  the 
city's  heart  whether  viewed  from  sea  or  shore. 

Beyond  the  valley  which  sunders  the  hills  of  San 
Francisco,  rise  the  Twin  Peaks  to  a  height  of  over 
nine  hundred  feet.  On  extends  the  range  south  into 
San  Mateo  County  where  the  mountains  stretch  away 
in  blue  misty  reaches. 

The  waterfront  is  lined  with  docks  crowded  with 
ships  and  steamers,  the  slender  masts  and  maze  of  rig- 
ging foresting  the  shore  with  ropes  and  spars.  Other 
ships  and  white  transports  from  the  Philippines  lie 
at  anchor  here  and  there  off  shore,  with  an  occasional 


30  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

battle-ship  or  cruiser  to  lend  impressiveness  to  the 
scene.  Comfortable  fat  white  ferry  boats  with  black 
smokestacks  slip  in  and  out  on  their  journeys  to  and 
from  the  opposite  shores.  In  midstream  is  Yerba 
Buena  Island,  now  popularly  known  by  its  nickname 
of  Goat  Island — a  rounded  land  mass,  treeless  and 
brown  on  its  exposed  side  but  with  groves  of  live-oak 
hidden  away  on  its  northern  slopes.  A  naval  training 
station  is  located  there,  fitting  boys  for  sea  duty  on  our 
men-of-war. 

To  the  eastern  eye  accustomed  to  verdure  in 
summer-time,  the  dry  hills  of  San  Francisco  Bay  look 
strange  enough,  but  the  old  resident  loves  this  aspect 
of  nature  and  would  not  change  it  had  he  the  power. 
There  is  something  quieting  and  restful  about  the 
sober  tones  which  vary  from  brown  and  yellow 
through  a  whole  range  of  purples,  grays  and  blues, 
with  plumbeous  curtains  of  fog  rolling  in  from  the 
sea.  The  wide  vistas,  the  dignity  and  gravity  of  the 
scene,  the  bigness  and  freedom  of  all,  sink  deep  into 
the  heart.  There  is  nothing  trivial  or  commonplace, 
nothing  merely  pretty  about  it.  Its  largeness  and 
nobility  grow  upon  the  beholder  with  years  of  resi- 
dence. 

At  times  all  this  varied  sweep  of  view  is  revealed 
in  the  utmost  detail,  with  sun  sparkling  on  the  rippling 
waves,  and  an  hour  later  the  high  summer  fog 
will  drift  over,  softening  the  outlines,  veiling  the 
hills,  dimming  the  distant  heights,  and  giving  the 
fancy  free  scope  to  build  into  the  obscurity  what  it 
pleases.  A  fresh  sea  breeze  generally  blows  across 
the  bay  throughout  the  summer,  but  there  are  days 
when  the  water  seems  fairly  oily  in  its  serenity. 

The  night  views  of  the  bay  have  their  own  charm. 
As  the  ferry  boat  leaves  the  waterfront,  a  multitude 
of  bright  lights  sparkle  at  the  many  piers,  some  of 
them  red  and  green,  throwing  splashes  of  soft  waver- 
ing color  in  the  water.  The  city  streets  up  the  steep 
hills  are  indicated  by  twinkling  stars,  and  across  the 


THE   PEERLESS   BAY  3 1 

water  sparkle  the  lights  of  Berkeley  on  the  upper 
slopes.  The  dark  dim  land  masses,  the  blackness  of 
the  bay  with  a  foggy  sky  above  leave  a  solemn  and 
mysterious  effect  of  vastness  and  loneliness  on  the 
mind. 

I  have  dwelt  on  the  beauty  of  the  bay  in  sum- 
mer because  it  is  so  distinctively  Californian;  but  the 
winter,  too,  has  its  own  loveliness.  The  few  showers 
of  early  autumn  are  often  followed  by  some  of  the 
warmest  days  of  the  year,  in  October  and  even  in 
early  November.  This  is  the  season  when  we  look 
for  northers,  those  singular  wind  storms  which  some 
people  dislike,  but  which  I  for  one  welcome  among 
the  experiences  of  the  year.  The  north  wind  blows 
with  hot  dry  gusts  of  the  desert.  If  the  rains  have 
started  any  green  blades  forth,  they  droop  and  wilt 
beneath  its  withering  fury.  Every  particle  of  mois- 
ture in  the  air  is  dried  out  and  the  atmosphere  is 
crystal  clear.  At  night  the  stars  blaze  and  flash  as 
if  opening  wide  their  wild  eyes  at  the  tumult  of  the 
wind.  Each  successive  day  for  three  days  the  weather 
grows  hotter  and  drier  and  the  force  of  the  wind  in- 
creases. Then  the  gale  dies  away  as  suddenly  as  it 
arose,  to  be  followed  not  infrequently  by  a  welcome 
shower.  There  is  something  immensely  stimulating, 
exhilarating,  even  exciting  about  this  storm  beneath 
an  azure  sky.  It  is  our  substitute  for  thunderstorms 
which  are  almost  unknown. 

When  the  winter  rains  finally  set  in,  what  a 
change  comes  over  the  landscape!  Every  shower 
starts  forth  the  green  blades  on  hill  and  plain.  The 
southeast  wind  blows  a  gale,  the  dark  clouds  hurry 
over  the  leaden  bay,  the  torrents  fall,  and  everybody 
is  happy.  At  the  end  of  the  storm,  when  the  sun 
thrusts  its  searching  rays  through  the  cloud  loops, 
striking  the  distant  hillsides,  a  pale  glint  of  green 
brightens  them.  Soon,  how  wonderfully  soon,  they 
are  clothed  in  verdure  from  valley  to  crest!  The 
green  fairly  glows  and  shimmers  beneath  the  winter 


32  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

sun.  And  the  atmosphere,  washed  of  all  impurities 
by  the  downpour,  is  of  matchless  transparency.  Every 
ravine  and  dimple  on  the  blue  slopes  of  Tamalpais  is 
revealed  in  all  its  lovely  nakedness.  Far  away  on  the 
summit  of  the  San  Mateo  Range  the  redwood  trees 
may  be  seen  standing  up  against  the  sky.  From  the 
Berkeley  Hills,  out  through  the  Golden  Gate  the  larg- 
est of  the  Farallone  Islands  is  plainly  visible  forty 
miles  away  and  its  intermittent  light  flashes  during 
the  hours  of  darkness.  The  houses  of  San  Francisco 
and  the  ships  in  the  harbor  are  defined  in  startling 
clearness. 

The  winter  months  about  the  bay  are  really  a 
curious  union  of  autumn  with  spring.  Winter  is 
overlooked  in  the  rushing  together  of  the  dying  and 
newborn  year.  Flowers  are  blooming,  birds  are  sing- 
ing and  a  thrill  of  life  passes  over  land  and  sea. 

At  this  season  the  bay  is  crowded  with  hosts  of 
birds.  Ducks  and  scoters  swim  about  off  shore. 
Murres  and  cormorants,  grebes  and  loons  dive  and 
sport  to  their  hearts'  content.  It  is  the  gulls,  however, 
that  attract  the  greatest  attention  of  passengers  on  the 
ferry  boats.  They  follow  the  boats  back  and  forth, 
picking  up  food  thrown  overboard  from  the  cook's 
galley  and  darting  after  bread  tossed  them  from  the 
deck  by  interested  spectators.  Feeding  the  gulls  has 
become  a  favorite  amusement,  and  a  pretty  sight  it  is 
to  see  them  poise  in  readiness  and  swoop  upon  the 
morsel  of  bread,  catching  it  in  mid  air.  So  tame  do 
they  become  that  I  have  known  them  to  take  bread 
from  the  outstretched  hand  of  a  man. 

With  this  winter  view  of  the  bay,  let  us  leave  it 
to  inspect  more  closely  the  great  mart  upon  its  shore. 
Hills  of  green  and  blue  lie  afar  off.  Mount  Diablo, 
one  of  the  commanding  peaks  of  the  Coast  Moun- 
tains, lifts  its  head  back  of  the  Berkeley  Range.  A 
brown  streak  on  the  blue  water  of  the  bay  marks  the 
course  of  the  Sacramento  River,  flooded  by  the  winter 
rains.     The  islands  are  beautifully  green;  ships  have 


THE   PEERLESS   BAY  33 

spread  their  clouds  of  canvas  to  dry  after  the  storm; 
back  and  forth  the  eye  ranges  over  miles  of  varied 
scenery,  all  colored  with  a  palette  that  only  a  Cali- 
fornia winter  furnishes.  The  great  ferry  boat  glides 
into  its  slip  and  we  follow  the  crowd  off  the  upper 
deck  into  the  magnificent  nave  of  the  Ferry  Building 
and  down  the  broad  stone  stairway  to  the  city  street. 


VIGNETTES   OF  CITY   STREETS 


H  the  bewilderment  of  a  first  view  of 
a  big  hustling  American  city!  To 
be  dropped  off  the  ferry  into  the  very 
center  of  the  maelstrom  of  life,  where 
every  mortal  is  bent  upon  his  own 
task,  where  streams  and  counter- 
streams  of  humanity  hurry  in  and  out 
and  round  about,  and  all  seem  at  first  glance  like  the 
chaos  of  life.  After  the  repose  of  the  country,  the  wide 
serenity  of  the  hill-encircled  bay,  to  grapple  with  the 
noise  and  stir  of  the  city!  But  what  a  sensation  of 
exhilaration,  this  elbowing  with  the  eager  crowd,  this 
trotting  with  the  pack  after  the  quarry,  this  pressing 
on  with  the  tumult  of  men  in  the  rush  for  place! 
Here  life  and  effort  are  focused,  and  the  great  organic 
forces  of  the  State  are  centralized  and  defined.  The 
wheels  of  the  Juggernaut  Progress  roll  along  the 
street  and  their  victims  are  many,  but  the,  victories  of 
peace  atone  for  all  the  strife,  and  humanity  goes  its 
way,  cursing  and  praying,  weeping  and  singing,  fight- 
ing and  loving,  but  on  the  whole  advancing  from  the 
beast  to  the  angel. 

At  the  foot  of  Market  Street  the  long  low  Ferry 
Building  of  gray  Colusa  stone  commands  the  view, 
and  its  graceful  clock-tower  rises  above  the  commo- 
tion of  the  city  highways.  To  right  and  left  stretches 
the  waterfront  street,  where  big  docks  and  wharfs  are 
lined  with  shipping.  Heavy  freight  vans  rattle  and 
bang  over  the  cobble-stones.  Bells  are  clanging  on 
cable  cars,  newsboys  are  piping  the  sensation  of  the 
hour;  there  is  an  undertone  of  many  voices,  a  scuffling 
of  hundreds  of  feet  on  the  cement  walks,  a  hurrying 


VIGNETTES  OF  CITY  STREETS  35 

of  the  crowd  for  first  place  on  the  cars.  From  this 
point  of  vantage  one  might  parody  the  well-known 
lines  of  Tennyson  into: 

Cars  to  right  of  you, 

Cars  to  left  of  you, 

Cars  in  front  of  you  clatter  and  rumble. 

The  Market  Street  cable  cars  bear  the  most  be- 
wilderingly  diverse  inscriptions.  No  two  seem  alike, 
yet  all  roll  merrily  up  the  same  broad  highway.  The 
novice  soon  discovers  that  for  all  practical  purposes 
one  is  as  good  as  another  unless  his  journey  be  into 
the  higher  residence  portions  of  the  city,  and  he 
furthermore  learns  that  by  a  most  extensive  system  of 
transfers  he  can  keep  traveling  almost  ad  lib  for  one 
five-cent  fare,  journeying  thus  from  the  bay  to  the 
ocean.  There  is  a  great  parade  of  cars  in  front  of 
the  Ferry  Building.  The  red  and  green  cable  cars 
of  the  Washington  and  Jackson  districts  come  sweep- 
ing around  a  loop  out  of  a  side  street  with  clanging 
bells  and  a  watchman  preceding  them.  Beyond  their 
stand  are  electric  and  horse  cars,  all  off  to  the  right  of 
Market,  while  to  the  left  several  important  south-of- 
Market  electric  systems  start.  Here  are  the  fine  big 
cars  that  run  down  the  peninsula  to  San  Mateo,  as  well 
as  the  Mission  and  Harrison  Street  lines. 

About  the  only  distinctive  feature  in  the  laying 
out  of  San  Francisco's  streets  which  relieves  the  pre- 
vailing prosaic  checkerboard  system  of  American 
cities,  is  found  in  the  direction  of  Market  Street  which 
slants  boldly  across  the  center  of  the  town.  The 
streets  to  the  north  of  it  were  stupidly  laid  out  on  the 
points  of  the  compass,  up  hill  and  down  dale,  but  a 
direct  route  from  the  mission  to  the  bay  following 
down  the  valley,  was  a  matter  of  so  much  import- 
ance in  the  early  days  that  this  highway  was  perpet- 
uated in  the  permanent  scheme  for  the  city.  The 
streets  of  the  section  south  of  Market  are  parallel  or 
at  right  angles  to  that  thoroughfare,  while  the  district 
to  the  north  is  laid  out  in  streets  which  run  on  other 


36  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

lines,  making  gore  blocks  at  every  intersection  with 
Market. 

Nearly  everyone  seems  bound  up  Market  Street, 
either  a-foot  or  a-cable,  so  why  not  follow  the  crowd? 
Cars  of  many  colors  are  swinging  around  on  the 
turn-table  one  after  another,  and  the  man  in  the  house 
of  glass,  who  I  trust  never  throws  stones,  is  giving 
them  the  cue  for  starting  up  town.  A  big  under- 
ground gong  is  clanging  its  warning  as  the  cars  swoop 
upon  the  turn-table;  bells  are  jangled  at  the  imper- 
turbable crowd,  and  in  some  mysterious  way  people 
manage  to  escape  being  run  over. 

Jumping  on  the  first  car  to  start,  I  find  an  outside 
seat  on  the  dummy.  The  bell  rings,  the  gripman 
throws  back  his  lever  which  clutches  the  cable.  You 
can  hear  the  grip  work  amid  the  rumble  of  the  start. 
He  hammers  away  at  his  foot  gong  and  off  we  roll! 
There  is  a  rush  of  wind  down  the  street,  a  whirl  and 
confusion  of  traffic.  Wholesale  houses  and  office 
buildings  line  the  way,  mostly  landmarks  of  the  old 
regime  with  much  gingerbread  ornamentation,  but 
here  and  there  a  fine  modern  building  of  stone  or  terra 
cotta  shows  that  the  city  is  alive  and  growing.  There 
is  time  for  but  a  glance  up  the  streets  that  shoot  off 
from  Market  at  an  acute  angle;  California,  Pine,  Bush, 
are  passed  in  a  trice  and  the  corner  is  reached  where 
Post  and  Montgomery  impinge  upon  Market.  The 
fine  Crocker  Building  is  squeezed  in  on  the  gore  block 
between  Post  and  Market  while  across  the  way  on 
the  south  side  of  Market  a  whole  block  is  taken  up 
with  the  Palace  Hotel — a  monument  of  bay  windows. 
A  sort  of  Bridge  of  Sighs  crosses  New  Montgomery 
connecting  the  Palace  with  the  Grand  Hotel.  On 
the  northeast  corner  of  Market  and  Montgomery 
Streets,  a  modern  terra-cotta  office  building  is  occupied 
by  the  business  departments  of  the  Southern  Pacific 
Company.  Up  Montgomery  Street,  past  the  Lick  House 
and  the  Occidental  Hotel,  both  in  the  architecture  of 
two  or  three  decades  ago,  is  the  magnificent  Mills 


T.OOKTNO    IIP    MONTGOMERY    STREET    FROM     MARKET. 


VIGNETTES  OF  CITY  STREETS  37 

Building,  one  of  the  most  substantial  and  well  pro- 
portioned structures  of  the  city.  Another  massive 
edifice  of  fine  design  is  the  Hayward  Building,  a 
block  beyond  the  Mills  Building,  but  the  clanging  car 
is  rolling  up  the  street  and  there  is  no  time  to  itemize 
the  many  modern  buildings  which  are  daily  climbing 
up  on  steel  frames  from  the  noisy  city  pave. 

Another  block  of  navigating  the  grip  and  the 
coign  of  observation,  the  navel  of  San  Francisco  is 
reached.  It  is  the  corner  of  Third,  Kearny,  and 
Geary  Streets,  where  the  busy  life  of  the  city  centers. 
So  many  people  leave  the  car  at  this  point  that  'tis 
evident  there  is  something  doing,  and  meekly  enough 
I  fall  in  line  with  the  crowd.  The  three  morning 
papers  seek  companionship  upon  the  corners  here — 
the  Chronicle,  whose  building  is  of  red  sandstone  and 
brick,  with  its  clock  tower — a  well-known  landmark 
of  the  city;  the  Examiner  Building,  in  Spanish  style, 
with  simple  plaster  walls,  deep  recessed  portico  at  the 
top,  and  tile  roof;  and  the  Call  tower,  rising  fifteen 
stories  to  a  fine  dome,  the  most  commanding  archi- 
tectural feature  of  the  business  district.  At  this 
meeting  of  the  ways  is  Lotta's  drinking  fountain,  a 
token  of  which  San  Franciscans  are  fond  from  its 
association  with  the  soubrette  who,  in  early  days,  first 
made  fame  and  fortune  here  by  winning  the  hearts  of 
the  pioneers. 

Kearny  Street  is  the  highway  for  shopping,  and 
hosts  of  fair  ladies  trip  its  stony  pavements,  looking 
with  absorbed  attention  at  window  displays  of  silks 
and  laces,  coats  and  curtains,  or  casting  glances  at  the 
latest  walking  exponent  of  fads  and  fashions.  Some 
are  lured  by  the  fragrant  aroma  or  tempting  window 
exhibition  into  the  sanctuary  of  ices  and  candies ;  others 
succumb  to  the  florist,  and  thus  money  circulates  by 
the  caprice  of  feminine  fancy. 

At  the  Kearny  Street  corner,  right  in  the  shadow 
of  the  Chronicle  Building,  is  a  bright  and  attractive 
feature  of  the  city  streets — the  flower  sellers.     They 


38  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

are  ranged  in  a  long  row  on  the  curb,  men  and  boys 
standing  beside  their  baskets  and  holding  out  bouquets 
to  tempt  the  wayfarers.  The  busy  stream  of  humanity 
sweeps  by  with  fluttering  skirts  and  laughing  voices. 
Electric  cars  clang  up  and  down,  a  coachman  snaps 
his  whip  as  a  glistening  carriage  with  jingling  har- 
ness rolls  over  the  asphalt  pavement  and  the  horses 
hoofs  clatter  merrily.  It  is  a  democratic  procession 
— the  negro  with  his  pipe,  the  traveler  with  dress-suit 
case,  an  officer  just  returned  from  the  Philippines,  and 
above  all,  the  women,  over  whom  even  Rudyard  Kip- 
ling, with  cynic  eye  and  caustic  pen,  could  not  but 
indulge  in  rhapsodies.  Mid  all  the  din  and  grit  of 
the  city,  alike  in  winter  as  in  summer,  the  flower  sellers 
are  at  their  post,  and  the  perfume  of  the  violet,  the 
sweet-pea  and  the  rose,  or  whatever  may  be  the  flower 
of  the  season,  steals  upon  the  senses,  while  the  brilliant 
array  of  bloom  makes  an  oasis  in  the  desert  of  stone. 

San  Francisco  is  commonly  divided  into  north 
and  south  of  Market  Street.  In  the  early  days  of  the 
city  the  aristocratic  part  of  town  was  in  Happy  Val- 
ley and  on  Rincon  Hill,  to  the  south,  but  when  a  cit- 
izen, Mr.  A.  S.  Hallidie,  successfully  solved  the 
problem  of  climbing  the  steep  hills  north  of  Market 
by  inventing  the  cable  car,  people  flocked  to  the  heights 
commanding  a  view  of  the  bay  and  the  Golden  Gate. 
Then  it  was  that  California  Street  became  the  nob  hill 
where  palaces  of  ample  dimensions  were  built  by  the 
Stanfords,  Hopkins,  Crockers,  Floods  and  other  mil- 
lionaires, while  people  of  more  moderate  means  set- 
tled upon  the  adjacent  hills  and  slopes.  The  south 
of  Market  section  became  the  home  of  the  artisans  for 
the  most  part,  and  certain  cross  streets,  notably  Third, 
Sixth  and  Eighth,  have  developed  into  secondary 
shopping  centers.  Mission  Street,  the  first  thorough- 
fare south  of  Market,  is  becoming  the  great  wholesale 
street  of  the  city,  and  numbers  of  splendid  modern 
structures,  solid,  substantial,  and  simple  in  design,  are 
being  constructed  upon  it. 


FROM     A     PHOTOGRAPH 

LOOKING    DOWN    KEARNY    STREET    TO    MARKET. 


VIGNETTES  OF  CITY  STREETS  39 

The  residence  district  is  today  reaching  out  over 
the  hills  between  the  Presidio  and  Golden  Gate  Park, 
while  the  business  section,  once  crowded  down  on  the 
made  land  of  the  waterfront,  is  expanding  up  the  resi- 
dence streets,  especially  on  Geary,  Post  and  Sutter. 
Post  Street  is  to  me  one  of  the  most  attractive 
shopping  highways,  owing  to  the  number  of  artistic 
stores  which  have  of  late  years  been  established  there. 
The  idea,  which  originated  with  a  picture  dealer  who 
commenced  in  a  very  modest  way,  has  grown  with 
surprising  rapidity.  Book  stores,  bazaars  where 
Oriental  brasses  and  rugs  are  displayed,  collections  of 
artistic  photographs,  Japanese  embroidery  and  prints, 
Egyptian  embroidery,  jewelry,  carved  and  antique 
furniture  are  among  the  displays  noted  in  passing  the 
shop  windows.  I  know  of  no  other  American  city, 
not  excepting  Boston  and  New  York,  where  one  may 
find  the  equal  in  taste  and  refinement  of  some  of  these 
stores. 

To  go  into  a  picture  house  where  every  detail  of 
furniture,  from  the  carved  chairs  and  simple  tables  to 
the  lockers  with  big  brass  strap  hinges,  are  works  of  art, 
studiously  harmonious,  where  wall  decoration  is  con- 
sidered as  well  as  the  pictures  selected  with  so  much 
taste  to  adorn  them — surely  this  is  as  inspiring  as  it  is 
unusual!  Then  to  be  led  into  mysterious  back  rooms, 
reserved  for  sequestrating  choice  collections  of  oil 
paintings,  displayed  with  more  generous  wall  space 
than  any  art  gallery  affords,  and  other  rooms  lined 
with  soft  Japanese  grass-cloth  for  showing  watercol- 
ors  and  etchings!  Verily  it  is  enough  to  surprise  the 
tenderfoot  who  thinks  of  San  Francisco  as  the  metrop- 
olis of  the  wild  and  woolly  west,  where  whiskered  men 
in  top  boots  and  flannel  shirts  carry  six-shooters  in 
their  belts.  Some  people  have  slipped  a  half-century 
cog  in  picturing  California  from  the  other  side  of  the 
continent.  Culture  and  art  have  taken  on  a  new  lease 
of  life  here,  and  like  the  exuberant  vegetation  are 
already  bearing  the  fruit  of  the  Hesperides.     Let  us 


4-0  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

frankly  confess  that  it  is  to  be  found  only  in  spots, 
like  oases  in  a  desert  of  the  commonplace,  but  every 
wind  that  blows  is  scattering  broadcast  the  seeds. 

Where  but  in  San  Francisco  can  one  find  a  book- 
store like  an  aesthetic  library?  Here  are  books  in 
glass  cases,  books  upon  finely  designed  tables,  and, 
scattered  about  the  room,  exquisite  antiques  in  brass 
and  bronze,  choice  vases  and  bits  of  pottery,  with  a 
few  well  chosen  photographs  and  cards  on  the  walls. 
Other  rooms  adjoin  the  main  apartment — the  old 
book  room  where  many  quaint  and  curious  books  in 
rare  bindings  are  treasured,  the  children's  room  and 
the  old  furniture  room  with  its  quaint  fireplace. 
Another  bookseller  on  the  same  street,  a  man  of  years' 
experience  and  standing,  has  gone  extensively  into  the 
publication  of  books  by  San  Francisco  authors,  and 
the  works  which  bear  his  imprint  will  compare  with 
the  output  of  the  best  Eastern  houses  in  workmanship 
and  style. 

Many  cable  cars  go  into  the  residence  district  on 
the  heights.  We  may  travel  on  the  California  Street 
cars  through  the  business  quarter,  even  more  exclu- 
sively the  haunt  of  men  than  Kearny  Street  is  of 
women,  and  up  the  steep  ascent  past  the  Hopkins  Art 
School,  looking  backward  down  the  street  to  the  bay 
with  the  Berkeley  Hills  and  Mount  Diablo  beyond; 
or  we  may  be  hauled  up  Clay  Street  through  China- 
town, holding  on  to  our  seats  the  while  as  best  we  may 
to  prevent  sliding  down  upon  our  neighbor,  and  ulti- 
mately get  up  into  the  Western  Addition  out  on  Jack- 
son Street  or  Pacific  Avenue.  There  are  countless 
blocks  of  the  older  residence  portion  of  the  city  to  be 
passed  en  route,  built  up  of  painted  board  houses  out 
of  which  rows  of  bay  windows  bulge  vacantly,  orna- 
mented with  diverse  whimsicalities  that  are  as  mean- 
ingless as  they  are  wearisome.  But  the  cable  car  jogs 
on  up  the  hills  and  down  the  valleys.  An  occasional 
dracaena  flutters  its  ribbon  leaves,  or  a  eucalyptus 
sways  its  stiff  hanging  foliage  in  the  fresh  sea  breeze. 


VIGNETTES  OF  CITY  STREETS  41 

Then,  as  we  climb,  the  vista  to  the  north  discloses 
the  blue  water  of  the  bay  with  the  purple  flanking 
hills  of  Tamalpais  upon  the  farther  shore.  Up  steep 
cobble-stone  streets  ascends  the  car,  with  isolated  knobs 
to  the  north  and  northeast — Russian  and  Telegraph 
Hills,  crowned  with  buildings.  Straight  ahead,  ocean- 
wards,  are  more  hills  up  which  a  series  of  cars  may  be 
seen  moving  at  measured  intervals. 

Van  Ness  Avenue  is  crossed — a  broad  asphalt 
street  lined  with  costly  homes  and  large  church 
edifices.  Many  of  the  houses  are  truly  palatial  in  size 
and  style,  and  an  air  of  wealth  pervades  the  thorough- 
fare. On  clatters  the  car,  rumbling  over  a  crossing 
and  starting  up  another  steep  ascent.  Here  stands  an 
elegant  mansion  of  rough  red  sandstone,  with  tile  roof, 
there  a  quaint  brick  house  with  the  distinctive  features 
of  the  Renaissance  in  domestic  architecture.  Down 
the  side  streets  on  the  lower  hills,  the  city  roofs  crowd 
in  a  gray  mass. 

Just  off  from  Jackson  Street  is  a  simple  little 
brick  church  which  has  been  an  inspiration  to  a  grow- 
ing number  of  lovers  of  the  genuine  and  beautiful  in 
life.  It  matters  not  whether  they  are  Swedenborgians 
as  the  minister  of  the  church  happens  to  be,  or  have 
other  creedal  affiliations.  The  spirit  of  the  place, 
with  all  its  quiet  restfulness,  its  homelike  charm,  its 
naive  grace,  has  sunk  deep  in  the  lives  of  a  small  but 
earnest  group  of  men  and  women.  Within,  the 
stranger  is  impressed  with  a  certain  primitive  quality 
about  everything.  The  heavy  madrono  trunk  rafters 
left  in  their  natural  state,  the  big  open  fireplace,  the 
massive  square-post,  rush-bottom  chairs,  and  the  large, 
grave  allegorical  landscapes  of  seedtime  and  harvest, 
painted  with  loving  care  by  William  Keith,  combine 
with  the  simplicity  of  design  and  the  fitness  of  every 
detail,  to  make  a  church,  which,  without  any  straining 
after  effect,  is  unique  in  beauty.  The  message  of  its 
builder  has  reached  his  mark,  and  here  and  there 
through  city  and  town,  homes  have  been  reared  in  the 


42  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

same  simple  fashion — plain,  straightforward,  genuine 
homes,  covered  with  unpainted  shingles,  or  built  of 
rough  brick,  with  much  natural  redwood  inside,  in 
broad  unvarnished  panels.  The  same  reserve  which 
has  characterized  the  building  of  these  homes  has 
likewise  been  exercised  in  their  furnishing.  A  few 
antique  rugs,  a  few  good  pictures  or  photographs  of 
the  masters,  and  many  good  books,  with  plain  tables 
and  chairs,  constitute  the  furniture.  To  find  this 
spirit,  which  would  have  been  a  delight  to  William 
Morris,  so  strongly  rooted  as  to  assume  almost  the 
aspect  of  a  cult,  is,  I  take  it,  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able features  of  a  civilization  so  new  as  that  of  mod- 
ern San  Francisco. 

For  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  city,  no  point  of  van- 
tage is  more  commanding  than  the  summit  of  Tele- 
graph Hill.  An  electric  car  out  Kearny  Street  goes 
past  the  base  of  the  hill,  but  the  height  must  be  gained 
on  foot.  Just  where  Kearny  Street  leads  into  Broad- 
way, in  that  tatterdemalion  Latin  quarter  where  Mex- 
ican and  Italian  restaurants  crowd  about  the  old  jail, 
and  the  window  of  every  two-penny  shop  has  a  name 
inherited  from  Spain  or  Italy,  we  leave  the  car  and 
climb  the  steep  road.  Many  of  the  side  streets  are 
passable  only  for  pedestrians.  Flights  of  steps  or 
broad  chicken-ladders  lead  to  houses  perched  on  rocky 
heights.  It  is  a  famous  place  for  goats,  which  graze 
on  old  newspaper  and  shavings,  looking  at  you  the 
while  with  wistful  expressions  on  their  bearded 
countenances. 

Panting,  we  reach  the  summit  and  gaze  abroad 
for  the  first  impression.  What  a  view  is  spread  about 
within  the  wide  sweep  of  horizon — of  life  with  all  its 
varied  activities — commerce,  manufactures,  homes! 
It  is  like  sitting  down  with  a  whole  metropolis  wrig- 
gling under  the  microscope!  The  great  frame  barn- 
like dilapidated  castle  interrupts  a  portion  of  the  view 
to  northward,  but  otherwise  the  whole  varied  pano- 
rama can  be  taken  in  by  a  turn  of  the  head.     To  the 


VIGNETTES  OF  CITY  STREETS  43 

east  and  northeast,  lies  the  expanse  of  blue  water 
bounded  by  the  far-away  green  hills  of  the  Contra 
Costa  shore,  rising  gradually  to  the  highest  point  in 
Grizzly  Peak  of  the  Berkeley  Range.  Goat  Island,  a 
green  mound  in  the  center  of  the  bay,  is  humped  up  in 
front  of  Berkeley.  To  the  south  of  it,  Oakland  lines 
the  bay  shore. 

Around  northwestwardly  stands  the  Bolinas 
Ridge,  with  the  waters  of  the  Golden  Gate  at  its  base. 
Fort  Point  protrudes  on  the  south,  with  Point  Bonita 
beyond  it  on  the  north  shore,  and  still  farther  off,  just 
a  glimpse  of  the  glistening  blue  ocean.  So  much  for 
the  bay  view  which  curves  around  the  marvelous  pan- 
orama of  the  city!  At  the  wharves  is  a  fringe  of  ship- 
ping. Men  and  horses  move  about  the  docks  like 
black  pygmies.  The  rumble  of  vans  ascends  from  the 
cobble-stone  pavement,  and  the  explosive  piffs  of  a 
gasoline  engine  are  heard. 

But  the  city,  oh  the  city,  how  it  crowds  the  hills 
with  a  wilderness  of  gray  walls  and  windows,  cleft 
here  and  there  by  the  lines  of  parallel  streets  which 
dare  to  climb  the  most  forbidding  heights!  How  it  is 
spread  out  there  on  the  slopes,  with  lofty  tower  build- 
ings rising  from  the  plain,  and  a  line  of  pale  hills 
fading  beyond  into  purple  behind  a  veil  of  smoke! 
Near  at  hand,  in  front  of  the  Greek  church,  with  its 
green,  copper-capped  turret,  is  a  little  patch  of  grass. 
Beyond  it,  on  Russian  Hill,  are  some  artistic  homes 
with  a  bit  of  shrubbery  on  the  adjacent  hillslope. 
Clothes  are  hanging  out  to  dry  on  flat  roofs  far  below. 
The  clang  and  din  filters  up  from  the  plain  in  sub- 
dued tones,  with  the  shrill  voices  of  children  caught 
by  a  veering  gust  of  wind.  What  a  chaos  of  dull 
houses,  thrilling  with  life,  each  enclosing  its  family 
history,  its  triumph  or  tragedy,  but  all  so  immovable 
and  unindividual  as  I  look  upon  the  mass! 


HIGHWAYS    AND    BYWAYS 


T  was  on  the  corner  of  Market  and 
Kearny  Streets  in  the  evening  and  a 
great  crowd  was  assembled,  filling  the 
streets  in  all  directions  for  some  blocks 
with  a  good-natured  mass  of  human- 
ity, dressed  for  a  holiday  and  standing 
about  as  if  waiting  for  something  to 
happen.  Suddenly  there  was  a  flash  and  scintillation 
of  lights,  a  suppressed  wave  of  admiring  exclama- 
tion running  through  the  crowd,  and  San  Fran- 
cisco was  decked  in  a  shimmering  garment  of  in- 
candescent lights.  At  the  meeting  of  the  streets  was 
an  immense  canopy  of  fairy  lamps  that  dazzled  one 
with  its  radiance.  Up  and  down  the  way  as  far  as  eye 
could  travel,  bands  of  light  were  stretched  overhead  at 
frequent  intervals,  sparkling  like  stars.  At  the  foot 
of  the  street  rose  the  ferry  tower,  its  every  line  brought 
out  in  electric  beading.  The  great  Spreckels  Build- 
ing was  similarly  outlined  with  lamps,  and  away  up 
town  the  dome  of  the  City  Hall  flashed  forth  glor- 
iously in  outlines  of  subdued  fire. 

Such  electric  illuminations  of  San  Francisco  are 
now  of  frequent  occurrence,  for  the  city  is  becoming 
noted  as  a  place  for  holding  conventions,  and  from  all 
parts  of  the  country  come  Christian  Endeavorers, 
Mystic  Shriners,  Knights  of  Pythias  and  all  sorts  of 
orders  and  associations  who  combine  a  holiday  in  Cal- 
ifornia with  their  business.  They  are  entertained  here 
with  that  hospitality  for  which  the  State  is  famed — a 
heritage  somewhat  diluted,  but  still  characteristic, 
from  the  proud  senors  of  the  Mexican  Republic  be- 
fore the  days  of  '49. 


HIGHWAYS    AND    BYWAYS  45 

So  great  has  been  the  influx  of  visitors  during  the 
past  year  that  there  is  scarce  accommodation  for  all, 
but  the  completion  of  the  two  new  hotels  and  the  two- 
story  addition  to  the  Palace  which  is  now  contem- 
plated, will  relieve  the  present  stress.  The  Palace 
has  been  for  years  one  of  the  landmarks  of  San  Fran- 
cisco. It  is  big  and  bulging,  but  there  is  something  so 
distinctive  about  its  interior  design  that  it  stands  alone 
among  hotels.  The  great  central  court  is  open  to  the 
skylight  with  a  balcony  bordering  it  on  each  floor. 
In  the  midst  is  an  immense  palm,  and  the  spacious 
court  is  paved  with  white  marble  flags.  Behind  a 
screen  of  palms  and  glass  at  the  farther  end,  dining 
tables  are  spread,  where  one  may  have  a  meal  instead 
of  going  to  the  restaurant  or  grillroom.  In  the  office, 
a  cosmopolitan  crowd  is  assembled — wayfarers  from 
everywhere  and  nowhere — and  one  may  find  here  end- 
less types  of  humanity  to  delight  and  interest  the 
student  of  mankind. 

Although  the  Palace  is  the  largest  of  the  hotels, 
there  are  others  about  town  quite  as  good.  The  New 
California,  on  Bush  Street,  with  its  pretty  little  the- 
atre in  the  center,  is  attractive  and  modern  through- 
out. The  Occidental  on  Montgomery  Street,  has  for 
many  years  been  the  headquarters  of  army  and  navy 
people,  as  well  as  for  many  others  who  do  not  wear 
uniforms.  A  block  nearer  Market  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  same  street  the  Lick  House  reminds  us  of 
the  eccentric  pioneer  who  did  so  much  good  with  his 
money  after  he  died.  In  the  residence  district  of  the 
city  there  is  an  increasing  number  of  refined  family 
hotels  which  are  sought  by  those  who  come  not  as 
curious  birds  of  passage  but  as  tentative  residents. 

In  the  way  of  creature  comforts,  San  Francisco 
is  noted  above  all  for  its  restaurants.  The  abundance 
of  food  produced  in  the  immediate  vicinity  and  the 
excellence  of  the  large  city  markets,  make  it  possible 
to  provide  meals  at  prices  that  amaze  New  Yorkers. 
An  elaborate  French  dinner  with  a  bottle  of  wine  for 


46  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

from  fifty  to  seventy-five  cents  is  provided  at  a  large 
number  of  places  about  town.  A  considerable  French 
population  came  to  San  Francisco  during  the  early 
days,  and  many  of  these  people,  gastronomic  experts 
by  nature,  have  found  their  gold  mines  in  frogs'  legs 
and  rum  omelettes.  The  old  Maison  Doree  was  for 
years  the  aristocratic  dining  place  of  the  city,  but  it 
fell  upon  evil  days  and  the  sheriff  took  the  keys.  Of 
the  resorts  long  familiar  not  only  to  San  Franciscans 
fond  of  good  living,  but  to  the  Bohemian  globe  trot- 
ters of  many  lands,  there  are  such  French  restaurants 
as  the  Poodle  Dog  and  the  Pup,  Marchand's  and 
Maison  Tortoni.  Among  the  best  known  of  the  Ger- 
man places,  where  orchestras  enliven  the  clink  of  steins 
and  schooners,  are  Zinkand's,  a  great  favorite  with 
after-theatre  supper-parties,  and  Techau  Tavern,  in  an 
old  church  with  pillars  and  recessed  nooks  decorated 
in  green,  where  one  may  have  rye  bread  and  Frank- 
furters together  with  sundry  other  good  things.  Nor 
must  one  forget  the  plebian  Louvre  which  is  German 
to  the  core,  in  spite  of  its  name. 

The  Mexican  restaurants  of  the  Latin  quarter  at 
the  base  of  Telegraph  Hill,  serve  all  sorts  of  hot  con- 
coctions— peppery  stews,  chicken  tamales,  frijoles,  and 
the  flat  corn  cakes  so  dear  to  the  Mexican  stomach,  tor- 
tillas, with  Chili  con  carne  and  red  peppers  to  warm 
up  the  meal.  Italian  restaurants  stand  side  by  side 
with  the  Mexican  on  Broadway,  with  their  "Buon 
gusto"  on  the  window  pane  to  attract  unwary  flies 
within  their  webs.  I  have  alluded  elsewhere  to  the 
Chinese  restaurants,  but  a  Japanese  tea  house  is  more 
of  a  curiosity,  even  in  cosmopolitan  San  Francisco. 
Up  on  Ellis  Street  is  such  a  place,  complete  in  all  its 
appointments,  set  in  a  charming  little  Japanese  gar- 
den. Here  the  Japanese  are  served  precisely  as  in 
the  land  of  the  chrysanthemum  and  the  cherry  blos- 
som. There  is  even  a  Turkish  restaurant  in  San 
Francisco  where,  surrounded  by  hangings  and  rugs  of 
oriental  richness,  one  may  whiff  the  incense  and  sip 


HIGHWAYS    AND    BYWAYS  47 

the  coffee  of  the  Ottoman  Empire.  Of  coffee  houses, 
chop  houses,  and  creameries,  good,  bad  and  indiffer- 
ent, there  is  no  end.  Swain's  is  the  oldest  and  best 
known  of  the  bakery  restaurants,  while  the  ladies 
caught  out  shopping  generally  drop  into  the  Woman's 
Exchange,  where  all  is  dainty  and  appetizing  to  a 
degree. 

Since  the  palmy  days  of  the  Argonauts  when  gold 
pieces  were  thrown  upon  the  stage  in  lieu  of  bouquets 
to  signify  the  miners'  appreciation  of  the  popular  dan- 
seuse  or  soubrette,  San  Francisco  has  been  noted  for  its 
theatrical  enthusiasm,  and  for  the  independence  of 
its  judgment  concerning  plays  and  players.  Of  late 
years  the  city  has  shared  in  the  general  American 
deterioration  of  the  stage,  but  anything  really  good 
awakens  the  old  response.  The  long  lines  of  people 
standing  for  hours  in  the  rain  to  gain  admission  to 
the  galleries  for  a  Wagner  opera  or  an  Irving  play 
are  sufficient  index.  Two  new  theatres  are  to  be 
erected  in  the  immediate  future  which  will  add  greatly 
to  the  dramatic  possibilities  of  the  city.  Cheap  opera, 
both  light  and  grand,  for  which  we  are  indebted  to 
the  German  residents,  is  a  constant  feature  of  the  the- 
atrical world  in  San  Francisco. 

Although  the  city  has  been  for  years  a  center  for 
artists,  sending  forth  many  painters  of  distinction  and 
better  still  keeping  a  few  at  home,  it  has  no  art 
gallery  save  the  collection  in  the  Mark  Hopkins 
School  of  Art.  Here  are  some  admirable  works,  but 
the  building  is  peculiarly  ill  adapted  for  displaying 
them.  Paintings  by  many  of  the  famous  European 
masters  are  owned  in  San  Francisco,  and  at  occasional 
loan  exhibitions  are  publicly  displayed. 

Of  local  painters  William  Keith  stands  alone  in 
his  art  as  a  master  of  landscape.  Such  poetry  of  field 
and  grove,  of  mountain  and  forest,  of  moving  clouds 
and  breaking  sunshine,  has  made  his  work  loved  more 
deeply  than  widely  by  all  who  know  California  and 
appreciate   the   great  earth   mother.     Some   day   the 


48  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

East  will  awaken  to  the  fact  that  the  greatest  of  Amer- 
ican landscape  painters  has  been  working  away  on  the 
Pacific  shore  all  these  years,  and  then  he  will  be  "dis- 
covered." The  work  of  Thomas  Hill  in  portraying 
the  larger  scenes  of  California,  especially  of  the  high 
Sierra  Nevada  Mountains,  has  given  him  a  national 
reputation.  In  portraiture,  the  tender  feeling,  the 
warm  coloring  and  free  handling  of  mother  and  child 
pictures  has  won  a  circle  of  enthusiastic  admirers  for 
Mary  Curtis  Richardson.  The  moonlight  scenes  of 
Charles  Rollo  Peters,  the  protraits  of  Orrin  Peck,  the 
Indians  of  Amedee  Joullin,  the  landscapes  of  Brewer, 
Cadenasso,  Jorgensen,  Latimer  and  McComas  and  the 
decorations  of  Mathews  and  Bruce  Porter  are  among 
the  most  widely  known,  although  the  list  might  be 
greatly  extended  without  exhausting  the  number  of 
really  admirable  painters.  One  of  the  signs  of  vitality 
is  the  large  number  of  young  men  and  women  who  are 
doing  excellent  work  and  constantly  raising  their  own 
standard  as  well  as  that  of  those  about  them.  In 
sculpture,  Douglas  Tilden  and  Robert  Aitken,  both 
young  men,  have  done  work  of  a  high  order  of  ex- 
cellence. 

The  Bohemian  Club  has  been  a  rendezvous  for 
the  artists  and  men  of  letters  in  San  Francisco.  Under 
the  patronage  of  the  owl,  this  club  has  brought  together 
many  congenial  spirits  who  have  sung  songs,  painted 
pictures,  written  poems  and  plays,  composed  music  and 
told  stories  in  honor  of  Bohemia.  Their  midsummer 
jinks  in  their  own  redwood  grove  in  Sonoma  County, 
where  the  majestic  columns  of  the  forest  form  the  wings 
of  the  theatre  and  the  mountain  a  back-ground,  where 
the  solemn  grandure  of  a  moonlight  night  is  made 
wierd  and  strange  with  red  fire  and  colored  calciums, 
bringing  out  all  the  tracery  of  the  wildwood  in  unfa- 
miliar lights  and  colors — all  this  with  the  music  of  a 
full  orchestra  and  a  spectacular  pageant  rendered  in 
brilliant  costumes,  makes  a  scene  of  impressive  beauty. 

Of  San  Francisco's  numerous  clubs,  the  Pacific 


HIGHWAYS    AND    BYWAYS  49 

Union  is  perhaps  the  most  aristocratic,  its  membership 
including  many  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  influential 
men  of  the  city.  The  Country  Club,  which  owns  a  great 
hunting  park  in  Marin  County,  is  composed  of  mem- 
bers of  the  Pacific  Union  and  there  is  also  a  Burlingame 
Country  Club,  made  up  of  the  elect  who  play  golf 
and  polo.  In  the  Cosmos  Club  are  many  army  and 
navy  men,  while  the  University  Club,  as  its  name 
implies,  is  composed  of  professors  and  alumni,  and 
entertains  at  its  comfortable  home  on  Sutter  Street 
many  visiting  scholars  of  distinction.  The  Olympic 
Club  is  chiefly  devoted  to  athletics,  having  a  building 
finely  equipped  with  salt  water  swimming  tank,  gym- 
nasium, handball  court,  and  all  appliances  for  culti- 
vating the  physical  man. 

Among  the  other  men's  clubs  may  be  mentioned 
the  two  select  Jewish  clubs,  the  San  Francisco  Verein 
and  Concordia.  The  Union  League,  with  headquarters 
at  the  Palace  Hotel,  is  a  Republican  club  exercising 
much  influence  over  local  and  state  politics.  The 
Press  Club  is  composed  of  leading  newspaper  men 
of  the  city  who  meet  in  good  fellowship  and  toss  off 
the  grind  and  partisanship  of  the  office  for  an  occas- 
ional hour  at  their  rooms  on  Ellis  Street.  The 
Unitarian  Club  has  no  building  or  rooms  of  its  own 
but  meets  monthly  around  the  festive  board  and  listens 
to  discussions  by  speakers  of  eminence  and  power,  of 
questions  of  local,  national,  or  universal  interest. 
These  meetings  have  much  weight  in  presenting  to  an 
influential  body  of  men,  from  many  points  of  view, 
matters  of  vital   importance. 

The  women  have  their  full  share  of  clubs,  most 
of  which  are  devoted  to  literary,  art,  charitable  or 
municipal  work.  The  Laurel  Hall  Club  is  one  of 
the  oldest  of  these  organizations,  and  still  continues 
its  social  and  literary  gatherings  without  diminution 
of  interest.  Many  prominent  women  of  San  Francisco 
are  members  of  the  Century  Club,  which  has  a  house 
of  its  own  on  Sutter  Street.     It  devotes  its  meetings 


50  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

mainly  to  music  and  lectures,  varied  by  an  occasional 
evening  reception.  The  California  Club  is  a  large 
organization  of  women  who  undertake  practical  work 
in  the  city  and  state.  They  have  already  accomplished 
much  good,  notably  in  their  agitation  for  preserving 
the  giant  Sequoias.  The  California  Outdoor  Art 
League,  recently  organized,  has  commenced  a  vigor- 
ous campaign  in  the  city  for  the  cause  of  flowers,  trees 
and  parks,  and  promises  to  exert  a  strong  influence  in 
beautifying  the  city.  The  Spinners  and  Sketch  Clubs 
are  composed  of  young  women  interested  in  literature 
and  art.    The  Sorosis  is  a  social  and  literary  club. 

The  ladies  of  the  Emanuel  Sisterhood  devote 
themselves  to  helping  those  less  fortunate  than  them- 
selves, and  their  aid  is  of  the  most  genuine  kind.  They 
go  among  the  poor  to  teach  sewing,  millinery  and 
cooking,  and  other  useful  arts.  The  Columbia  Park 
Boys'  Club,  largely  supported  by  them,  has  done  a 
noble  work  among  a  group  of  youngsters  south  of 
Market  Street.  In  a  charming  home,  fitted  up  simply 
but  with  real  artistic  feeling,  the  boys  have  nightly 
meetings.  There  is  a  small  reading  room  with  good 
pictures  on  the  wall  and  books  and  magazines  on 
shelves  and  tables.  Classes  in  manual  training,  in 
drawing  and  clay  modeling  are  conducted  by  volunteer 
workers.  There  is  a  gymnasium,  a  military  depart- 
ment, a  baseball  club  and  other  athletic  features  as  well 
as  a  chorus  of  young  boys  who  sing  classical  songs  in 
a  spirited  manner. 

A  college  settlement  has  been  established  in  San 
Francisco  for  a  number  of  years,  and  now,  through 
the  generosity  of  Mrs.  Phoebe  A.  Hearst,  has  neigh- 
borhood meetings  in  its  own  comfortable  and  artistic 
quarters.  Another  modest  little  neighborhood  home  is 
delightfully  maintained  by  Miss  Octavine  Briggs,  who, 
in  the  capacity  of  trained  nurse,  has  brought  health, 
good  cheer,  and  refining  influences  to  many  people 
young  and  old.  Over  in  the  Latin  Quarter  at  the  foot 
of  Russian  Hill,  the  Rev.  Fiske  and  his  wife  maintain 


HIGHWAYS    AND    BYWAYS  5 1 

an  institutional  church  known  as  the  People's  Place 
— a  center  for  good  practical  work  in  that  region  of 
saloons  and  poverty. 

The  churches  of  San  Francisco  present  few 
striking  features  to  distinguish  them  from  the  houses 
of  worship  in  other  American  cities  of  the  same  size. 
The  older  church  buildings  are  for  the  most  part  com- 
monplace in  architecture,  but  some  of  the  more  recent 
ones  are  massive  stone  structures  of  fine  design.  Among 
the  city  ministers,  none  perhaps  has  exercised  so 
powerful  an  influence  over  the  destiny  of  the  com- 
munity as  Thomas  Starr  King,  whose  eloquent  preach- 
ing did  much  to  save  California  to  the  Union  during 
the  stormy  days  before  the  war.  His  successor,  Horatio 
Stebbins,  was  a  pillar  of  strength  and  a  profound  moral 
force  in  the  community.  The  quiet  example  of  Joseph 
Worcester  has  been  a  quickening  influence  for  all  good 
and  beautiful  things. 

Probably  the  most  striking  feature  of  San  Fran- 
cisco's places  of  worship  is  their  cosmopolitan  char- 
acter. The  Greek  Catholic  is  represented  here  as  well 
as  the  Roman,  and  the  towers  of  the  synagogue  rise 
with  the  spires  of  the  Protestant  Christians.  The  negro 
Baptist,  Salvation  Army  and  all  are  here.  The  Jap- 
anese Confucian  and  the  Chinaman  with  his  joss, 
worship  in  their  own  peculiar  fashion.  Christian 
Science,  the  newest,  and  Theosophy  a  modern  echo  of 
the  oldest  of  religions,  each  has  its  following. 

The  city  schools  differ  in  no  material  respect  from 
those  of  other  American  cities  of  corresponding  pop- 
ulation. There  are  a  number  of  manual  training  and 
industrial  schools,  notably  the  Wilmerding,  the  Lick 
School  of  Mechanical  Arts,  the  Polytechnic  High  and 
the  Cogswell  Schools.  There  are  three  academic  high 
schools,  the  Lowell,  Mission  and  Girls',  each  sending 
annually  many  graduates  to  the  University.  A  feature 
of  the  school  department  is  the  salaried  School  Board, 
consisting  of  men  who  devote  themselves  exclusively 
to  the  work,  and  who,  in  connection  with  the  Superin- 


52  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

tendent  of  Schools,  conduct  all  the  public  educational 
affairs  of  the  city. 

The  museums  of  San  Francisco  are  nearly  all  in 
an  early  stage  of  development.  The  largest  is  in 
Golden  Gate  Park,  a  gift  of  the  Commissioners  of  the 
Midwinter  Fair  and  is  especially  rich  in  archaeology. 
The  California  Academy  of  Sciences  maintains  a  free 
museum  of  natural  history  in  its  building  on  Market 
Street  and  has  the  most  complete  extant  herbarium  and 
study  collection  of  birds  of  the  Pacific  Coast.  This 
institution  also  gives  monthly  popular  lectures  on 
scientific  subjects  which  are  largely  attended.  Its 
printed  proceedings  are  recognized  among  the  im- 
portant contributions  to  science,  and  have  an  inter- 
national reputation.  As  one  of  the  residuary  legatees 
of  the  Lick  estate,  the  Academy  has  an  assured  income, 
although  not  sufficient  to  properly  carry  on  all  its 
activities.  The  University  of  California  maintains  in 
the  Ferry  Building  a  small  but  interesting  collection 
of  Alaskan  ethnology,  most  of  which  was  presented  to 
it  by  the  Alaska  Commercial  Company.  The  same 
building  also  contains  the  mineralogical  museum  of 
the  State  Mining  Bureau,  and  the  agricultural  and 
horticultural  exhibitions  of  the  State  Board  of  Trade 
which  has  for  many  years  undertaken  to  make  the 
resources  of  California  more  widely  known.  The 
Pacific  Commercial  Museum,  recently  organized,  also 
has  its  headquarters  in  the  Ferry  Building  where  it 
is  installing  a  collection  of  the  commercial  products 
of  the  countries  of  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Its  work  is  out- 
lined somewThat  on  the  plans  of  the  Philadelphia  Com- 
mercial Museum,  and  it  aims  to  keep  the  merchants 
of  San  Francisco  in  touch  with  trade  openings  and 
developments  in  foreign  countries. 

Of  local  libraries  but  a  passing  word  need  be  said. 
The  large  Public  Library  is  temporarily  quartered  in 
the  City  Hall,  while  the  Mechanics'  Library,  especially 
popular  on  account  of  its  location  near  the  business  and 
shopping  centers,  has  a  building  totally  inadequate  to 


HIGHWAYS    AND    BYWAYS  53 

its  needs.  Plans  are  already  maturing  for  a  new  build- 
ing. The  Mercantile  completes  the  list  of  general 
public  or  semi-public  libraries.  The  Sutro  Library  is 
a  wonderful  repository  containing  many  priceless 
illuminated  codices,  incunabula  and  other  rare  old 
editions,  but  it  is  at  present  stored  where  it  is  inacces- 
sible to  the  public.  The  Academy  of  Sciences  has  a 
valuable  working  library  of  scientific  books,  its  collec- 
tion of  journals  and  proceedings  of  other  societies  being 
especially  noteworthy.  The  employees  of  Wells,  Fargo 
and  Company  have  an  excellent  circulating  library  and 
the  Bohemian  Club  has  a  choice  and  well  selected 
collection  of  books  for  its  members. 

The  above  somewhat  dry  review  of  the  institutions 
of  San  Francisco  seems  essential  to  a  proper  under- 
standing of  the  city  life  of  today.  The  present  period 
of  growth,  the  awakening  of  the  city  to  new  opportun- 
ities and  new  responsibilities,  will  no  doubt  lead  to  an 
enlargement  of  the  various  institutions  of  civic  life. 
The  nucleus  of  all  good  things  is  here  and  with  the 
support  and  encouragement  which  is  bound  to  follow 
the  present  wave  of  progress,  there  is  no  reason  why 
libraries,  museums,  art  galleries  and  all  civic  institu- 
tions for  the  advance  of  civilization  and  the  betterment 
of  humanity  should  not  grow  to  their  just  proportions 
in  the  community. 


THE  BARBARY  COAST 

GROUP  of  sailor  men  stood  in  the 
doorway  of  an  outfitting  store,  talk- 
ing in  loud  thick  voices.  "You're  just 
a  good-for-nothing  coot,"  cried  one 
brawny  fisted  sea  dog  to  a  companion 
disappearing  around  the  corner.  The 
dim  lights  shone  feebly  down  the  dark 
street.  Arc  lamps  on  the  docks  illuminated  the 
rigging  of  the  many  masts  along  shore.  On  the 
window  of  a  saloony-looking  restaurant  was  painted 
"Sanguinetti's,"  and  three  Bohemians  doing  the 
Barbary  Coast  entered.  The  master  of  ceremo- 
nies stood  behind  his  counter — red-faced,  bullet- 
headed,  bull-necked,  with  one  eye  gone  and  the  other 
betwixt  a  leer  and  a  twinkle.  He  was  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  with  a  sort  of  apron  tucked  about  his  ample 
form.  Two  darkies  strummed  a  banjo  and  guitar, 
singing  the  while  hilarious  coon  songs.  We  stepped 
noiselessly  over  the  sawdust  floor  to  a  table  at  one  side 
and  ordered  clam  chowder,  spaghetti,  chicken  with 
garlic  sauce,  and  rum  omelette,  with  Italian  entrees 
and  a  bottle  of  water-front  claret  for  good  cheer. 

A  buxom  middle-aged  lass  of  heroic  build  was 
so  affected  by  the  strenuous  twanging  of  Old  Black 
Joe  that  she  got  up  and  danced.  Everybody  joined  in 
the  songs;  everybody  talked  to  his  or  her  neighbors, 
sans  ceremony.  There  was  an  ex-policeman  present 
with  his  best  girl,  the  captain  of  a  bay  schooner,  a 
tenderloin  politician  or  two,  and  several  misses  who 
scarcely  looked  like  school  marms  as  they  warbled 
coon  songs  and  sipped  maraschino. 

After  dining,  we  dropped  into  "Lucchetti's"  next 


THE  BARBARY  COAST  55 

door,  where  it  is  the  custom  to  lead  your  partner 
through  the  mazes  of  the  waltz  when  dinner  is  over 
and  before  going  uptown  to  see  the  marionette  show. 
One  feels  safer  on  the  streets  of  this  quarter  at  night 
when  he  elbows  a  good  companion.  No  doubt  there 
is  no  danger,  but  stories  of  sand-baggers,  and  of  board- 
ing masters  armed  with  hose  pipe  and  knock-out  drops 
for  shanghaiing  luckless  wayfarers  and  smuggling 
them  off  to  some  deep-water  ship  outward  bound,  will 
crop  up  in  the  mind  of  the  lonely  pedestrian. 

By  day,  the  waterfront  is  a  scene  of  romantic  in- 
terest. Every  weatherbeaten  vagabond  who  walks 
the  street  is  itching  to  tell  you  stories  of  the  ends  of 
the  earth.  Every  grimy  grog  shop  has  its  quota  of 
yarn  spinners  who  like  nothing  better  than  an  excuse 
to  talk  and  tipple  from  morn  to  dewy  eve.  Go  where 
you  will  along  those  miles  of  docks,  an  endless  rim  of 
shipping  reminds  you  of  the  lands  across  the  sea;  and 
every  wedding  guest  is  in  the  clutches  of  some 
ancient  mariner. 

Schooners  with  five  masts  all  of  a  size,  and  with 
scanty  upper  rigging,  are  discharging  pine  from  Puget 
Sound.  English  steel  ships  deep  laden  with  coal  from 
Wellington  lie  alongside  the  wharves.  Yonder  is  a 
clumsy  old  square  Sacramento  River  steamer  with 
stern  paddle  wheel  and  double  smokestacks.  A  rak- 
ish brig  from  the  South  Sea  Islands  crowds  up  along- 
side of  a  stumpy  little  green  flat  bottom  sloop  which 
plies  on  the  bay. 

Sparrows  chatter  on  the  dusty  wharf  and  scarcely 
budge  for  the  heavy  dray,  drawn  by  ponderous  Nor- 
man horses  that  shake  the  planks  beneath  them  as 
they  thunder  along.  Donkey  engines  rattle  and  clat- 
ter at  unloading  coal  into  cars  on  bridges  leading 
across  the  street  to  the  huge  grimy  coal  store-houses. 
Teamsters  pass  with  big  lumber  trucks  and  wagons 
loaded  with  sacks  of  grain.  A  group  of  heavy-set, 
stolid  coal  passers  shuffles  by.  Idle  beach  combers 
and  wharf  rats  with  sooty  faces  lounge  on  lumber 
piles  and  stare  vacantly  at  the  scene. 


56  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

A  vista  through  the  shipping  shows  the  steely 
blue  water  of  the  bay  with  a  lavender-gray  background 
of  fog.  There  is  a  medley  of  schooners,  scows,  ten- 
ders and  tugs  along  shore  and  a  black,  three-syksail 
Yankee  clipper  ship,  the  queen  of  them  all,  anchored 
out  in  the  stream.  A  whirl  of  sawdust  comes  with 
the  salt  breeze;  a  tug  toots  as  it  passes,  dock  engines 
gasp  and  pant,  vans  rumble  past,  and  thus  commerce 
thrives  on  the  grit  of  the  waterfront. 

Great  grim  steamers  lie  in  narrow  berths  loading 
or  discharging — the  tramp  from  Liverpool,  a  Panama 
liner,  monster  boats  for  South  America,  a  big  black 
Australian  mail  ship  and  others  for  China  or  Japan. 
White  transports  with  buff  funnels  striped  with  red, 
white  and  blue,  tell  of  the  Philippines.  A  steamer  is 
just  in  from  Nome  with  returning  miners,  and  an- 
other is  billed  to  sail  in  the  afternoon  for  the  inside 
passage  to  Alaska. 

The  most  picturesque  spot  on  the  waterfront  is 
Fisherman's  Wharf.  Here  the  Greek  fishers  moor 
their  little  decked  boats  rigged  with  graceful  lateen 
sails.  One  must  be  up  betimes  to  see  them  to  advant- 
age, for  the  fisher  folk  are  early  birds.  Their  brown 
three-cornered  sails  may  be  seen  dotting  the  bay  at  all 
hours,  but  the  return  of  the  fleet  at  sundown,  like  a 
flock  of  sea  birds  scudding  on  the  wind  to  their  roost, 
throws  the  spell  of  the  Mediterranean  over  this  far 
western  haven.  Although  some  years  have  elapsed,  I 
still  have  vivid  recollection  of  a  conference  at  five  in 
the  morning  with  a  captain  and  crew  of  one  of  these 
boats.  The  men  were  boozy  and  sleepy  as  we  talked, 
in  the  little  waterfront  saloon,  of  our  prospective  trip 
to  the  Farallones,  and  they  appeared  so  stupid  that 
we  had  grave  doubts  concerning  their  ability  to  nav- 
igate a  boat.  We  found  the  long  double  wharf 
crowded  with  perhaps  a  hundred  fishing  boats,  pointed 
stem  and  stern,  decked,  and  with  their  long  cross 
booms  on  the  masts  making  an  unusual  effect.  A  few 
bronzed  fishermen  in  blue  shirts,  rubber  hip  boots,  and 


THE  BARBARY  COAST  57 

bright  sashes,  were  at  work  at  the  first  peep  of  the 
sun,  washing  and  hauling  in  a  seine  to  dry  or  cleaning 
off  the  decks  of  their  boats.  The  men  proved  to  be 
skilled  sailors  despite  the  bad  water-front  whisky, 
and  at  the  turn  of  the  tide  we  sped  away  under  a  brisk 
head  wind,  bound  out  through  the  Golden  Gate. 


A  CORNER  OF  CATHAY 


FEW  blocks  up  Kearny  Street  from 
the  corner  of  Market  is  a  stretch  of 
green  popularly  known  as  the  Plaza, 
but  officially  designated  Portsmouth 
Square.  It  lies  upon  the  hill-slope  to 
the  west  of  Kearny,  between  Clay  and 
Washington  Streets,  and  its  benches, 
scattered  about  under  the  greenery,  are  the  receptacle 
for  as  motley  an  assembly  of  weather-beaten  hulks  of 
humanity  as  one  is  apt  to  chance  upon  in  all  San 
Francisco.  The  spot  is  teeming  with  memories  of 
the  early  days.  Here  the  American  flag  was  first 
raised  by  Captain  Montgomery  of  the  sloop-of-war 
Portsmouth.  Here  the  Vigilance  Committee  first 
took  the  law  into  its  own  hands.  The  Parker  House, 
and  afterward  the  Jenny  Lind  Theatre,  stood  on  the 
site  now  occupied  by  the  Hall  of  Justice,  a  fine  new 
building  with  a  clock  tower,  situated  on  Kearny 
Street  just  opposite  the  Plaza.  In  the  days  of  '49  the 
town  life  centered  about  this  square,  and  many  public 
meetings  of  importance  were  held  here  during  those 
intensely  dramatic  days. 

Today  Portsmouth  Square  is  the  lungs  of  China- 
town— the  one  breathing  space  in  that  strange  Oriental 
city  which  crowds  down  upon  the  greenery  of  the  lit- 
tle park.  The  graceful  drinking  fountain  in  its  cen- 
ter, a  memorial  to  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  reminds 
us  that  the  genial  story-teller  was  wont  to  linger  here 
during  some  of  his  least  happy  days,  and  the  little 
sermon  upon  the  stone  tablet  is  a  perpetual  inspira- 
tion for  all  outcasts  of  humanity  who  tarry  before  the 
quaint  bronze  symbol  of  a  ship. 


AN    ALLEY    IN    CHINATOWN. 


A  CORNER  OF  CATHAY  59 

Oh,  that  strange  mysterious  horde  in  the  center 
of  San  Francisco,  which  is  in  the  heart  of  the  city 
and  yet  not  of  it,  that  packed  mass  of  busy  humanity, 
living  in  a  civilization  as  ancient  as  the  pyramids  I  I 
look  upon  the  silent  procession  of  dark  inscrutable 
faces  with  a  feeling  of  awe.  The  settled  content,  the 
plodding  self-reliance,  the  sense  of  antiquity  over- 
shadows every  countenance.  Here  is  a  fragment  of 
one  of  the  oldest  and  most  conservative  civilizations, 
grafted  upon  the  newest  and  most  radical.  Certain 
innovations  of  up-to-date  Americanism  the  Chinese 
have  adopted.  They  have  a  telephone  central  station 
with  native  operators,  and  many  of  their  buildings  are 
illuminated  with  incandescent  lamps,  but  these  things 
are  external  and  superficial.  Two  thousand  years  of 
arrested  development  is  not  conducive  to  a  pliable 
mind.  The  Chinaman  who  uses  the  telephone,  eats 
with  chopsticks  and  goes  before  his  joss  with  presents 
of  food  to  propitiate  the  god  and  make  his  business 
prosper.  His  queue  is  as  sacred  to  him  as  it  was  to 
his  forefathers.  He  will  run  a  sewing  machine  and 
drive  a  broken  down  plug  hitched  to  a  dilapidated 
laundry  wagon,  but  when  it  comes  to  delivering  vege- 
tables he  swings  two  immense  baskets  from  a  pole 
across  his  shoulder,  and  runs  mechanically  along  with 
a  weight  that  would  appall  a  white  man. 

The  lover  of  the  curious  and  the  beautiful  de- 
lights in  the  conservatism  of  the  Chinese.  Although 
their  art  as  expressed  in  the  handicrafts  is  not  so  grace- 
ful and  spontaneous  as  that  of  the  Japanese,  it  has  a 
medieval  quality,  a  frankness  and  simplicity  com- 
bined with  much  dexterous  handling  and  barbaric 
splendor,  that  makes  it  a  vital  expression,  beside  which 
our  machine-made  articles  seem  cheap  and  common- 
place. 

The  buildings  of  Chinatown  are  abandoned 
stores  and  dwellings  of  the  white  population,  more  or 
less  made  over  by  the  addition  of  balconies  and  such 
other  changes  as  the  requirements  or  fancies  of  their 


60  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

present  owners  may  suggest.  The  restaurants  and 
joss  houses  are  particularly  striking  on  account  of 
their  deep  balconies,  ornamented  with  carved  wood- 
work brightly  colored  or  gilded,  and  set  off  with  im- 
mense lanterns  and  with  big  plants  in  china  pots. 
About  whatever  these  strange  people  do  there  is  an 
elusive,  indefinable  touch,  which  is  distinctively  racial 
and  picturesque.  It  may  be  nothing  more  than  the 
bright  splashes  of  long  narrow  strips  of  paper  pasted 
upon  buildings  with  inscriptions  in  the  curious  per- 
pendicular lettering  of  the  people,  but  it  serves  at  once 
to  create  an  atmosphere. 

Along  Dupont  Street,  a  block  west  of  Kearny, 
the  bazaars  center,  and  many  of  them  have  marvelous 
displays  of  beautiful  bric-a-brac.  Silks,  embroideries, 
carved  ivories,  antique  lanterns  and  bronzes,  orna- 
mented lacquer  ware,  hammered  brasses,  carved  teak- 
wood  chairs  and  tables,  camphor-wood  chests,  sandal- 
wood boxes  and  fans,  and  chinaware  of  exquisite  work- 
manship— cloisonne,  Satsuma,  Canton  ware,  and  a 
bewildering  variety  of  other  gorgeous  things  make  up 
the  stock  of  these  places.  Spectacled  merchants  figure 
with  the  aid  of  the  abacus  and  keep  accounts  by  writ- 
ing in  brown  paper  books  with  pointed  brushes. 

The  crowd  which  passes  along  the  street  is  prob- 
ably the  most  unusual  to  the  average  American  of  any 
within  the  confines  of  the  United  States.  How  the 
throng  scuffles  along  in  its  thick-soled  felted  shoes, 
dark-visaged  and  blue  cloaked!  At  first  the  almond- 
eyed,  sallow-faced  multitude  looks  like  an  undiffer- 
entiated mass  of  humanity,  and  the  stranger  despairs 
of  finding  any  points  in  which  one  man  varies  from 
his  neighbor.  But  as  the  type  grows  familiar  the 
individual  characteristics  become  more  marked.  A 
quaint  little  roly-poly  woman  passes,  her  black  shiny 
hair  brushed  back  over  the  tops  of  her  ears  and  neatly 
rolled  up  in  a  knot  on  the  back  of  her  head,  richly 
ornamented  with  a  hammered  gold  clasp.  Great 
pendant  earrings  of  jade  sway  as  she  steps  along  on 


A  CORNER  OF  CATHAY  6 1 

her  high  rocker  shoes.  Her  loose  black  pantaloons 
show  below  the  shiny  black  gown  that  comes  to  her 
knees  or  a  trifle  below.  With  her  is  a  little  boy  who 
seems  as  if  he  belonged  in  a  colored  picture  book  of 
the  days  of  Aladdin.  His  mild  face  looks  like  a  full 
moon  with  eyes  turned  askew.  He  is  clad  in  a  gor- 
geous yellow  silk  jacket  fastened  across  the  breast 
with  a  silk  loop,  and  his  lavender  pantaloons  are  tightly 
bound  around  the  ankles.  His  queue  is  pieced  out  to 
the  regulation  length  with  braided  red  silk,  and  yet 
withal  he  is  a  picture  of  unconscious  contentment  as 
he  toddles  beside  his  mother.  In  the  passing  horde  I 
distinguish  an  old  man,  bent,  and  wearing  immense 
spectacles,  his  gray  queue  dangling  sedately  as  he 
walks.  A  man  picks  his  way  through  the  crowd  with 
a  big  wooden  tray  balanced  on  his  head,  and  a  little 
girl  with  broad  flat  nose  and  narrow  eyes  wears  silver 
bracelets  on  her  ankles.  Yonder  walks  a  withered 
little  man  with  smiling  face,  slits  of  eyes,  thin  lips, 
sharp  cheek  bones  and  prominent  ears.  His  head  is 
covered  with  a  stiff  black  skull  cap  surmounted  by  a 
red  knotted  ball,  his  slender  hands  are  half  concealed 
beneath  the  loose  sleeves  of  his  dark  blue  coat  lined 
with  light  purple  silk.  His  white  stockings  show 
above  the  low  shoes.  There  are  bare-footed  coolies 
in  straw  sandals,  wearing  coarse  clothes,  and  with  dull 
besotted  expressions  on  their  saturnine  faces,  contrast- 
ing sharply  with  the  refined  features  and  graceful  car- 
riage of  the  well-to-do  merchants.  All  these  and 
many  more  are  to  be  seen  upon  the  streets  of  San 
Francisco. 

The  time  to  get  the  full  effect  of  Chinatown  is  at 
night  when  the  streets  are  crowded  with  the  toilers  of 
the  day  and  the  lights  of  many  lanterns  add  their  touch 
of  color  to  the  scene.  From  a  sequestered  balcony 
comes  the  strange  monotonous  squeaking  of  a  Chinese 
violin.  The  high  sing-song  voices  of  children  sound 
from  a  distance.  On  following  their  call  I  find  a 
group  of  funny  little  imps  about  a  bon-fire  in  the  gut- 


62  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

tcr.  Their  queues  dangle  and  flop  about  as  they  play. 
They  wear  odd  black  caps  and  thick-soled,  heavily 
embroidered  slippers.  Their  bright  jackets  are  fas- 
tened with  cord  loops  and  their  trousers  are  bound 
about  the  ankles.  A  row  of  red  Chinese  candles  and 
some  punks  are  burning  on  the  curb  and  these  quaint 
little  elves  seem  to  be  in  high  glee  over  their  illumina- 
tion. 

Across  the  way  a  restaurant  is  resplendent  with 
big  colored  lanterns  on  its  balconies  and  the  sound  of 
music  from  within  tells  of  a  dinner  party  in  progress. 
The  restaurant  is  entered  through  the  kitchen,  where 
strange  bright  yellow  cakes  and  other  mysterious 
delicacies  are  being  prepared.  The  second  floor  is 
reserved  for  the  common  people  and  here  are  many 
men  shoveling  streams  of  rice  from  bowls  to  their 
mouths  with  the  aid  of  chop-sticks.  The  aristocratic 
top  floor  is  elegantly  furnished  with  black  teak-wood 
tables  and  carved  chairs,  inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl. 
Decorations  in  the  form  of  carved  open-work  screens 
adorn  the  partitions  between  rooms,  and  there  are 
couches  along  the  wall  covered  with  straw  mats,  where, 
after  eating,  one  can  recline  to  smoke  the  pipe  of 
peace. 

A  Chinese  dinner  party  is  a  brilliant  affair, — the 
black  circular  tables  loaded  down  with  confections  in 
little  dishes,  the  gorgeous  silk  robes  of  the  men  about 
the  festive  board,  and  the  women,  even  more  brilliantly 
attired,  who  are  present  but  may  not  sit  at  table  while 
the  men  are  dining!  I  choose  a  retired  corner  in  an 
adjacent  room  and  order  a  cup  of  tea  with  roasted 
almonds,  dried  lichis,  preserved  cumquats  and  ginger, 
and  some  curious  Chinese  cakes,  listening  the  while  to 
the  high-pitched  sing-song  voices  of  the  revelers,  the 
rapping  of  drums,  clanging  of  cymbals  and  squeaking 
of  riddles,  and  imagining  myself  a  disciple  of  Con- 
fucius in  the  heart  of  the  Flowery  Kingdom. 

Returning  again  to  the  street,  the  bazaars  are  left 
behind  with  all  their  splendid  art  work,  and  plebian 


ON    A    RESTAURANT    BALCONY. 


A  CORNER  OF  CATHAY  63 

food  shops  take  their  place.  Pork  is  the  meat  of  the 
people ;  little  strings  of  meat  which  for  want  of  a  better 
name  I  may  call  bunches  of  slender  sausages,  hang 
temptingly  in  view.  Dried  fish  dangle  on  strings. 
Eggs  are  suspended  in  open  wire  baskets.  There  are 
many  strange  vegetables  which  are  unfamiliar  to 
Caucasian  eyes — melons,  tubers  and  fruits  which  belong 
exclusively  to  the  Orient.  Down  in  basements  barbers 
are  at  work  tonsuring  patient  victims.  A  drug-store 
dispenses  dried  lizards,  pulverized  sharks'  eggs  and 
sliced  deer  horns,  together  with  numerous  herbs  for  the 
curing  of  disease  and  the  driving  out  of  evil  spirits. 
Dr.  Lum  Yook  Teen  of  Canton,  China,  advertises  pills 
to  cure  the  opium  habit,  and,  be  it  noted,  finds  it  profit- 
able to  have  his  sign  printed  in  English  as  well  as 
Chinese.  On  a  corner,  a  Chinese  fruit  vender  has  his 
stand  and  offers  candied  cocoanut  shreds,  and  lichi 
nuts  with  brown  shells  as  soft  as  paper  which  crush 
in  at  a  touch  and  reveal  the  sticky  sweetish  dried  pulp 
clinging  to  a  pit  in  the  center.  He  also  has  plates  of 
dried  abalones  for  sale — the  meat  of  the  beautiful  ear- 
shells.  There  are  lengths  of  green  sugar-cane  which 
the  Chinese  boys  love  to  suck,  and  many  other  delica- 
cies exposed  to  view. 

Shops  are  crowded  together  with  displays  of 
embroidered  shoes  and  sandals,  of  long  slender  tobacco 
pipes,  and  opium  pipes  which  look  something  like 
flutes,  of  dry-goods  done  up  in  neat  little  rolls  and 
packages,  and  brass  pots  for  the  kitchen.  In  one 
window  sits  a  spectacled  jeweler,  working  away  in  the 
dim  light  at  a  hand-wrought  ring.  He  has  bits  of 
carved  jade  and  silver  bracelets  about  him  as  evidences 
of  his  handiwork. 

Off  from  the  main  business  street  of  Chinatown 
extend  many  side  lanes  and  dark  alleys,  packed  with 
sallow-visaged  Celestials.  There  are  narrow  passages 
and  long  dark  stairways  that  one  hesitates  to  venture 
upon.  Other  alleys  are  brilliantly  illuminated  but 
have  barred  doors  and  windows  with  little  peep-holes 


64  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

where  lowering  men  with  intense  black  eyes  scan  every 
one  who  approaches.  These  are  the  gambling  dens. 
The  nervous  banging  of  doors  sounds  constantly  as  men 
pass  in  and  out  and  the  heavy  bolts  are  turned  to  exclude 
the  police.  A  fat  dowager  in  a  shiny  black  dress  stands 
in  the  shadow  of  an  alley  and  peers  out  with  a  sinister 
look  on  her  face.  At  a  street  corner  a  crowd  is  reading 
a  red  bulletin  pasted  upon  the  wall. 

During  one  of  my  nocturnal  rambles  through 
Chinatown  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  witness  the 
annual  ceremony  of  feeding  the  poor  dead.  It  was  held 
in  Sullivan  Alley,  so  named,  no  doubt  because  it  is  in- 
habited exclusively  by  the  Chinese,  and  Irishmen,  as 
well  as  all  other  people  of  pale  complexions,  are  ex- 
pressly warned  off  by  sign  and  guard.  A  crowd  of 
Celestials  pushed  in  and  out  through  the  doorway  in 
the  high  fence  that  made  the  alley  private.  Now  and 
then  a  man  would  come  with  a  covered  pewter  dish 
of  food  which  he  was  bearing  from  the  restaurant  to 
some  one  within,  or  a  waiter  would  pass,  balancing 
a  tray  on  his  head  with  a  whole  meal  in  pewter 
pots.  The  narrow  street  was  aglow  with  solid 
rows  of  lanterns  suspended  from  both  the  lower 
and  the  upper  balconies.  At  the  end  of  the  alley 
stood  a  gaudy  booth  decorated  with  flowers,  in- 
scriptions and  banners.  A  band  of  musicians,  lav- 
ishly dressed  in  colored  silks,  dispensed  wild  music; 
banging  drums  and  clashing  cymbals  broke  in  upon 
the  strange  cadences  of  shrill  pipes  and  squeaky  fiddles. 
Around  the  corner  of  the  alley  was  a  great  screen 
painted  with  three  immense  figures  of  josses,  fiercely 
grotesque.  Before  them  a  table  spread  with  rare  altar 
cloths  richly  embroidered  was  loaded  with  confections 
and  flowers.  Candles  and  incense  burned  before  the 
shrine.  Four  priests  in  vivid  scarlet  robes  with  gold 
embroidered  squares  on  their  backs,  and  elaborately 
embroidered  trimmings  of  white  and  silver  in  front, 
their  heads  covered  with  stiff  black  caps  surmounted 
by  large  gold  knots,  faced  the  tables  and  bowed  in 
stately  fashion  to  the  tune  of  the  strenuous  music. 


A  CORNER  OF  CATHAY  6$ 

Ladies  dressed  in  gorgeous  costumes  with  their  black 
hair  plastered  back,  leaned  over  balconies  in  the  glow 
of  lanterns,  and  watched  the  scene.  Stolid  crowds  of 
men  with  expressionless  faces  packed  the  alley,  coming 
and  going  in  a  never-ending  stream.  The  odor  of 
sandal-wood  incense,  the  rythmic  whine  and  clash  of 
the  music,  the  Oriental  horde  in  the  softened  light  of 
lanterns,  made  a  picture  which  seemed  more  appro- 
priate to  a  court  of  Cathay  in  the  long  forgotten 
centuries  than  to  a  scene  in  an  American  metropolis  of 
this  late  day  of  steam  and  electricity. 

So  much  for  the  street  scenes!  On  entering  those 
dark  portals  which  lead  up  or  down  by  crooked  ways 
into  the  labyrinths  of  rooms,  a  new  phase  of  Chinatown 
is  disclosed.  Here  in  garrets  and  cellars  human  beings 
are  stowed  away,  stacks  of  bunks  holding  the  packed 
mass  of  humanity.  In  stifling  subterranean  chambers 
opium  fiends  lie  in  beatetial  filth  and  dream  of  bliss. 

Even  the  theatre  is  honey-combed  with  such  dark 
and  devious  tunnels  where  the  actors  live.  The  white 
visitor  gropes  his  way  to  the  stage  through  crooked 
lanes  bordered  by  dingy  closets  of  rooms  whence  floats 
the  dried-apple  odor  of  burning  pellets  of  opium,  and 
those  other  undefinable  but  eminently  distinctive  smells 
which  only  Chinatown  can  generate. 

Once  upon  the  stage,  attention  is  divided  between 
the  great  sea  of  faces  in  the  pit — silent,  wrapt,  dark, 
mysterious  faces  that  grin  and  gaze  as  the  action 
changes,  but  make  no  sound — and  the  action  of  the  play. 
In  the  boxes  sit  the  women,  apart  from  the  crowd. 
Seats  are  placed  at  the  side  of  the  stage  for  our  accom- 
modation and  the  play  goes  unconcernedly  on.  The 
musicians,  at  the  back  of  the  stage,  keep  up  an  infernal 
bang  and  clatter,  mingled  with  shrill  twangings,  pipings 
and  squeakings  in  monotonous  iteration.  Men  imper- 
sonating women  step  mincingly  about  in  their  high, 
awkward  shoes,  singing  in  falsetto  voices,  daintily 
swinging  fans,  and  pursing  up  their  painted  lips  to 
simulate  the  charms  of  the  gentler  sex.    The  emperor 


66  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

is  almost  certain  to  appear,  sooner  or  later,  and  the 
officer  who  gets  astride  a  chair  or  broomstick  for  a 
hobby-horse.  After  he  is  beheaded  he  stands  up  and 
gravely  walks  off  and  the  audience  looks  more  serious 
than  ever  at  his  exit.  Stage  scenery  is  severely  simple. 
A  table  will  serve  for  a  mountain  and  a  sign  for  a  forest. 
The  play  continues  for  days  and  weeks,  like  the  Arabian 
Nights  tales,  and  since  our  capacity  is  limited  for  ap- 
preciating all  its  subtleties  of  wit,  and  the  depths  of  its 
tempestuous  tragedy,  we  betake  ourselves  from  the  noise 
of  crashing  cymbals  which  sound  as  if  all  the  pots  and 
pans  of  a  big  hotel  kitchen  were  being  hurled  simultan- 
eously at  the  head  of  some  luckless  cur,  and,  after 
elbowing  through  the  group  of  actors,  and  groping 
along  dark  lanes,  finally  emerge  upon  the  street,  well 
satisfied  with  a  cursory  view  of  the  dramatic  art  of  this 
wonderful  people. 

The  joss  houses  or  temples  of  Chinatown  have  no 
external  beauty  save  in  the  carved  panels  of  their 
balconies.  They  are  on  the  upper  floors  of  buildings 
and  are  approached  by  long  straight  flights  of  steps. 
The  interiors  are  characterized  by  a  wealth  of  gro- 
tesque and  conventional  carving.  The  altars  are 
marvels  of  intricate  relief,  generally  overlaid  with  gold 
leaf.  There  are  big  brass  bowls  upon  them,  in  which 
sticks  of  incense  burn,  and  before  the  images  of  the 
josses  are  offerings  of  food  and  lighted  lamps.  Poles 
and  emblems  borne  in  processions  on  festive  occasions 
adorn  the  walls,  and  there  are  various  fortune-telling 
appliances  about  the  place.  If  a  man  is  to  undertake 
a  business  venture  he  consults  the  joss.  Two  pieces  of 
wood  shaped  like  a  mammoth  split  bean  are  much  in 
vogue  for  reading  fates.  These  are  thrown  violently 
upon  the  ground,  and  according  as  they  fall  with  the 
flat  or  rounded  side  up  is  determined  the  man's  fortune. 
There  is  also  a  plan  for  drawing  straws  to  tell  luck. 
When  a  man  is  well  advised  by  the  joss,  and  succeeds 
in  business  accordingly,  he  is  apt  to  remember  his  spirit- 
ual counsellor  with  a  handsome  present,  and  thus  the 


A  CORNER  OF  CATHAY  67 

temple  thrives.  Thus  it  becomes  possessed  of  its 
splendid  embroidered  altar  cloths,  its  rare  old  carvings 
and  furniture,  and  other  paraphernalia  which  makes  it 
a  place  of  wonder. 

A  Chinese  funeral  is  an  event  that  forces  itself 
upon  the  attention  of  every  wayfarer.  The  beating  of 
tom-toms,  scattering  of  imitation  paper  money  to  the 
devil,  the  express-wagon  full  of  baked  hogs  and  other 
food,  are  all  matters  of  note.  And  then  there  are  the 
antiquated  hacks  drawn  by  raw-boned  horses  that 
eminently  suit  them,  the  professional  mourners,  the 
sallow-visaged  friends  of  the  deceased.  The  train  pro- 
ceeds to  the  cemetery  keeping  up  its  infernal  din  the 
while.  When  the  body  is  interred,  a  portion  of  the 
baked  meats  and  confections  are  placed  over  it  together 
with  some  lighted  punks.  The  remaining  viands  are 
then  taken  back  to  Chinatown  where  the  whole  party 
unite  in  a  feast  in  honor  of  the  dead.  At  a  later  period 
the  body  is  exhumed,  the  bones  are  scraped,  and  all  that 
remains  of  the  departed  is  shipped  to  his  beloved  rest- 
ing place — the  Flowery  Kingdom. 

Chinese  New  Year  is  celebrated  a  month  and  more 
after  ours.  At  this  time  the  whole  district  is  bent  on 
merrymaking  and  hospitality.  Every  door  is  open  to 
welcome  guests.  There  is  a  display  of  gorgeous  cos- 
tuming that  would  rival  a  prize  exhibition  of  cockatoos. 
Everybody  makes  presents;  nuts  and  sweetmeats  are  in 
every  hand.  Houses  and  stores  are  decked  with 
lanterns;  heavy-scented  China  lilies  are  stood  about 
in  pots  and  vases;  punks  burn,  firecrackers  pop,  and 
the  revel  lasts  for  days.  The  procession  in  which  a 
hundred-legged  dragon  a  block  long  writhes  through 
the  streets  accompanied  by  priests,  soldiers  and  attend- 
ants in  gorgeous  livery,  is  the  crowning  event  of  the 
celebration. 

The  Chinese  question  was  for  many  years  one  of 
the  live  issues  in  California  politics.  So  large  an 
invasion  of  the  little  brown  men  was  occasioned  by 
the  discovery  of  gold  that  their  presence  soon  grew 


68  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

to  be  a  menace  to  white  labor.  Thrifty,  industri- 
ous, imitative,  bringing  nothing  with  them  and  carry- 
ing away  all  they  made,  it  was  soon  evident  that  the 
tide  of  immigration  must  be  checked.  The  watchword, 
"The  Chinese  must  go,"  was  a  stock  phrase  of  the 
stump  politicians.  After  much  sand-lot  agitation  and 
some  rioting,  Congress  was  prevailed  upon  to  enact 
legislation  prohibiting  the  entrance  of  Chinese  laborers 
into  the  United  States.  Similar  legislation  was  re- 
enacted  at  the  last  session  of  Congress,  the  time  limit 
of  the  old  law  having  been  reached.  The  Chinese  pop- 
ulation of  San  Francisco  numbers  a  little  under  twenty- 
five  thousand  at  the  present  time,  having  declined 
somewhat  since  the  passing  of  the  restriction  laws. 

California  faces  a  land  with  a  population  of  prob- 
ably five  hundred  million  people.  We  have  demanded 
free  access  to  that  land  for  all  our  citizens,  but  we  deny 
them  the  same  right  in  return.  To  permit  an  unre- 
stricted immigration  of  these  people  would  be  to  court 
disaster.  They  huddle  together  without  families, 
nourished  on  rice  and  tea.  The  readiness  with  which 
they  learn  our  arts,  coupled  with  their  mode  of  life, 
makes  competition  with  them  an  impossibility.  Their 
women  are  mainly  slaves  held  for  traffic.  The  police 
have  made  little  headway  against  their  gambling  dens ; 
fan-tan  is  played  openly  behind  barred  doors;  opium 
is  the  curse  of  the  race.  Highbinders,  professional 
murderers  of  rival  tongs,  are  hired  to  assassinate 
enemies  and  generally  manage  to  elude  pursuit  in  the 
mazes  of  Chinatown. 

Despite  all  this,  the  Chinese  are  in  many  ways 
useful  and  perhaps  essential  factors  in  the  development 
of  California.  In  the  fruit  picking  and  packing  in- 
dustry they  are  more  reliable,  more  mobile  and  in  every 
way  more  dependable  than  white  labor.  As  market 
gardeners  they  have  no  equal.  A  good  Chinaman  is  an 
ideal  household  servant,  neat,  thorough,  industrious 
and  far  better  trained  than  the  average  white  woman 
servant.  In  the  country  districts  he  will  go  to  places 
where  women  are  practically  unobtainable. 


A  CORNER  OF  CATHAY  69 

The  solution  of  the  Chinese  problem  is  to  be  found 
in  a  conservative  and  unimpassioned  handling  of  the 
question  on  all  sides.  Neither  the  wide  open  door  nor 
the  total  exclusion  will  ultimately  prevail,  in  all  prob- 
ability. But  however  the  question  may  be  decided, 
Chinatown  is  today  a  place  of  strange  and  absorbing 
interest,  where  much  that  is  both  curious  and  beautiful 
may  be  found,  and  where  the  oldest  of  the  world's 
civilizations  is  religiously  treasured  in  the  heart  of  a 
big  modern  American  city. 


PLEASURE  GROUNDS  BY  THE  SEA 

REARY  sand  dunes,  blown  about  by 
the  fog-laden  wind  fresh  from  the 
ocean,  and  barren  hills  that  seemed  to 
give  no  promise  of  fertility,  lay  be- 
tween San  Francisco  and  the  sea  when 
in  1870  work  was  commenced  on  the 
Golden  Gate  Park.  The  seemingly 
impossible  has  been  accomplished,  and  today  the  park  is 
a  great  pleasure  ground  full  of  beauty  and  surprise  at 
every  turn.  Broad  avenues  wind  about  through  the 
miles  of  shrubbery  and  trees,  with  footpaths  branching 
in  all  directions.  Spirited  horses  and  elegant  carriages 
speed  along  the  way.  Crowds  of  people  enjoy  the 
outing  on  foot  while  many  bicycles  flash  by.  Exclusive 
of  the  Panhandle  which  is  to  be  extended  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  city,  as  far  as  Van  Ness  Avenue,  there  are 
over  a  thousand  acres  in  the  park  with  seventeen  miles 
of  carriage  drives  winding  through  its  beautifully 
diversified  groves,  lawns  and  gardens. 

In  the  midst  rises  Strawberry  Hill,  commanding 
a  superb  view  of  the  surrounding  country.  Oceanwards 
the  surf  is  breaking  on  the  sandy  beach  and  a  ship  looms 
out  of  the  mist  into  the  golden  light  of  the  setting  sun. 
Northwestward  lies  Tamalpais  set  in  masses  of  nearer 
hills,  with  the  whole  sweep  of  the  Golden  Gate  at  the 
foot  of  it.  To  the  northeast,  just  over  the  cross  on  Lone 
Mountain,  the  crest  of  the  Berkeley  Hills  may  be  dis- 
cerned. Due  eastward,  over  the  noble  dome  of  the  City 
Hall  and  way  back  of  the  hills  on  the  far  shore  of  the 
bay,  Mount  Diablo  lifts  its  two  great  mounds  above 
the  mist.  The  slopes  of  Strawberry  Hill  are  clothed 
in  pine  and  cypress,  with  glimpses  of  ponds  and  lake- 


PLEASURE  GROUNDS  BY  THE  SEA  Jl 

lets  below.  The  stone  cross  in  commemoration  of  Sir 
Francis  Drake  stands  on  an  eminence  near  at  hand 
and  the  park  with  its  forests  and  broad  winding  drive- 
ways is  all  about.  Flanking  this  are  great  smooth 
windswept  piles  of  sand,  softly  ribbed  and  wrinkled 
here  and  there  as  the  setting  sun  falls  on  its  creamy 
folds.  Beyond,  on  the  hills,  are  the  outskirts  of  the  city, 
with  masses  of  houses  huddled  in  blocks  and  patches 
on  the  heights.  Thrushes  and  white-crowned  sparrows 
are  happily  singing  in  the  shrubbery,  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  the  ocean  breeze  which  sighs  through  the  pine 
trees. 

Encircling  Strawberry  Hill  is  Stowe  Lake,  an 
artificial  waterway  with  islets  and  bridges  to  diversify 
it.  No  spot  in  the  park  is  more  fascinating  to  me  than 
the  quaint  Japanese  garden  and  tea  house,  where  dwarf 
trees  and  evergreen  carpets  cling  amid  the  rocks  bor- 
dering pools  spanned  by  rustic  bridges,  where  cosy 
nooks  invite  you  to  linger  for  the  refreshing  bowl  of  tea 
and  crisp  crinkly  little  rice  cakes. 

The  Park  Museum,  an  imitation  of  an  Egyptian 
temple,  is  especially  rich  in  archaeology  and  ethnology, 
although  it  contains  a  museum  of  natural  history  as 
well.  It  has  a  fine  collection  of  Indian  baskets  and  its 
Colonial  exhibit  comprises  much  of  interest  and  beauty. 
In  the  large  Crocker  conservatory  are  rare  varieties  of 
begonias,  orchids  and  other  frail  exotics,  while  the 
splendid  Victoria  regia,  the  giant  Guiana  water-lily 
with  a  pale  pink  night-opening  blossom  a  foot  in 
diameter,  spreads  its  broad  tray-like  leaf  pads  in  the 
central  pool.  There  is  a  massive  stone  music  stand  in 
the  park,  the  gift  of  Claus  Spreckels,  where  band 
concerts  may  be  heard  once  a  week.  The  children  have 
merry  times  in  their  play-ground,  and  boys  play  base- 
ball on  an  expansive  green  lawn.  There  is  an  aviary 
where  many  bright-plumaged  birds  disport,  a  bison 
paddock  and  deer  park.  The  trees  and  shrubs  of  the 
park  have  been  brought  from  all  over  the  world — from 
various  parts  of  North  and  South  America,  Siberia, 


72  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

China,  Japan,  Australia  and  Africa.  It  is  claimed 
that  no  other  park  has  so  great  a  variety  of  trees,  the 
temperate  climate  of  San  Francisco  supporting  the 
plant  forms  of  all  but  torrid  countries. 

To  the  energy,  taste,  and  enthusiasm  of  Mr.  John 
McLaren,  for  many  years  park  superintendent,  is 
largely  due  the  miracle  of  making  the  wind-swept  sands 
into  a  garden  of  rare  beauty. 

Beyond  the  park  is  the  long  line  of  ocean  beach 
with  its  fine  shore  drive,  and  the  Cliff  House  perched 
defiantly  upon  the  rocks  where  the  breakers  thunder. 
Off  shore  but  a  stone's  throw  are  the  Seal  Rocks  where 
herds  of  sea  lions  lie  about  in  the  spray,  roaring  above 
the  dashing  surf.  The  Sutro  Baths  are  situated  near 
the  shore  here,  with  their  immense  salt-water  swim- 
ming tanks  surrounded  by  seats  to  accommodate  over 
seven  thousand  people. 

I  like  best  to  leave  the  works  of  man  which  for 
the  most  part  mar  rather  than  beautify  the  coast,  and, 
slipping  off  into  some  retreat  along  the  rocky  shore  at 
the  foot  of  Point  Lobos,  watch  the  great  Pacific  surf 
come  riding  in  to  spend  its  might  against  the  weather- 
worn rocks  at  the  entrance  to  the  Golden  Gate.  Ships 
under  full  sail  sweep  proudly  in  with  a  fair  wind. 
Gulls  poise  and  flutter  overhead. 

The  cry  of  the  surf  on  the  rock-bound  strand,  stern 
and  lonely,  the  salt  spray  and  the  driving  foam,  the 
clanging  bell  on  the  buoy  that  rides  on  the  rim  of  the 
channel,  the  mist  overhead  hastening  in  through  the 
Gate,  all  bear  token  of  that  great  mother  of  us  all,  who 
calls  men  forth  to  alien  shores,  all  speak  the  Titan 
language  of  Ocean,  the  mighty  mistress  whence  cometh 
the  strength  of  nations. 


BY     rlBBITTS 


ON    THE    RIM    OF    THE    GOLDEN    GATE. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  CITY 


URING  a  good  part  of  the  decade 
immediately  preceding  the  dawn  of 
the  new  century,  a  strange  lethargy 
seemed  to  have  settled  upon  the  city 
by  the  Golden  Gate.  To  the  north- 
ward, Seattle  and  Spokane  were  forg- 
ing ahead  with  giant  strides.  To  the 
southward,  Los  Angeles  had  grown  from  a  pueblo  to 
a  metropolis.  In  San  Francisco,  public  spirit  was  at 
a  perilously  low  ebb.  Of  local  pride  there  was  but  the 
faintest  glimmer.  Population  was  at  a  standstill; 
houses  were  for  rent.  Merchants  took  what  trade 
came  their  way  but  seldom  reached  out  for  more. 
Staggered  by  the  crash  of  '93,  the  city  seemed  unable 
to  recuperate,  or  made  a  recovery  so  slow  that  people 
shook  their  heads  and  spoke  disparagingly  of  the  place. 
What  was  the  matter  with  San  Francisco?  Why 
did  it  rest  supinely  upon  its  many  hills  and  let  the  world 
take  its  own  course?  The  railroad  was  commonly 
blamed  for  all  the  evils  arising  from  the  difference  and 
indifference  of  public  opinion  on  local  questions.  The 
Octopus,  as  that  Quixotic  champion  of  the  city's  rights, 
Mayor  Sutro,  dubbed  it,  was  indeed  a  power  with 
tentacles  far  spread  over  the  State,  and  permeating 
many  branches  of  civic  life.  But  there  were  other 
factors  which  retarded  the  growth  of  San  Francisco, 
chief  among  which  was  the  lack  of  public  spirit  among 
the  citizens. 

It  is  a  more  agreeable  field  of  speculation  to  note 
the  forces  which  have  been  instrumental  in  changing 
all  this — for  a  change  has  indeed  come  over  the  com- 
munity.    One  of  the  earliest  symptoms  of  an  awakened 


74  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

civic  pride  was  the  action  of  the  Merchants  Associa- 
tion in  reforming  the  work  of  cleaning  the  streets  of 
the  business  district.  At  about  this  time  a  ripple  of 
enthusiasm  was  caused  by  the  completion  of  the  San 
Joaquin  Valley  Road  and  its  absorption  by  the  Santa 
Fe  System,  which  insured  a  competing  overland  line 
to  San  Francisco.  Events  for  arousing  the  city  crowded 
thick  and  fast  about  the  end  of  the  century.  The  Klon- 
dike gold  excitement  stimulated  trade  and  travel  with 
the  North. 

Years  before  Dewey's  guns  thundered  at  the  gates 
of  Manila,  far  sighted  men  had  predicted  that  the 
strife  for  commercial  supremacy  was  destined  to  shift 
ere  long  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  but  their 
prophecies  had  fallen  upon  deaf  ears.  The  Eastern 
States  took  little  note  of  Pacific  Coast  events,  save  to 
chronicle  a  prize  fight  or  a  sensational  murder.  But 
when  regiments  of  soldiers  came  pouring  into  San 
Francisco  on  their  way  to  the  Philippines,  the  atten- 
tion of  the  nation  was  centered  here.  It  began  to  dawn 
upon  men,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  that  this  was  the 
port  of  departure  not  merely  for  the  Spanish  Islands 
of  the  Pacific  but  also  for  the  Orient  beyond.  The 
strategic  importance  of  San  Francisco  was  impressed 
upon  the  dullest  minds.  Complications  in  China  re- 
quiring the  presence  of  American  troops  there,  served 
but  to  deepen  this  realization.  The  moving  of  an 
army  of  seventy  thousand  men  to  and  from  these  remote 
regions,  the  presence  of  fleets  of  transports  in  the  har- 
bor, the  stimulus  of  trade  in  new  channels,  all  served 
to  rquse  the  dormant  city. 

Simultaneously  with  these  stirring  events  came 
the  reorganization  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad. 
As  a  part  of  the  great  Harriman  System,  a  policy  of 
co-operation  with  the  people  in  the  building  up  of  the 
State  has  been  vigorously  pushed.  It  is  now  apparent 
on  every  hand  that  the  interests  of  the  railroad  and  of 
the  people  are  one.  If  the  arteries  of  commerce  are 
obstructed,  will  not  the  tissues  of  the  State  wither? 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  CITY  7$ 

Or  conversely,  if  the  body  politic  be  not  sound  and 
strong,  will  it  not  inevitably  impair  the  circulation  of 
trade?  To  grasp  this  fundamental  proposition  of  the 
organic  connection  between  the  people  and  the  ave- 
nues of  commerce,  and  to  work  to  make  this  relation- 
ship a  just  and  harmonious  one  on  both  sides,  is  the 
first  essential  to  the  prosperity  of  a  country.  Espec- 
ially is  this  so  of  a  region  which  from  its  vast  isola- 
tion is  dependent  upon  commercial  relations  with 
remote  parts  of  the  land.  The  importance  of  this  new 
spirit  cannot  be  overestimated  in  an  analysis  of  the 
factors  which  are  now  at  work  in  rejuvenating  San 
Francisco.  The  withered  staff  of  Tannhauser  has 
burst  into  leaf,  and  the  dead  past  shall  bury  its  dead. 

The  new  charter  of  San  Francisco  is  constructed 
on  the  most  advanced  ideas  of  municipal  government, 
and  already  great  benefits  are  coming  to  the  city  from 
its  operation.  Since  its  adoption,  large  sums  of  money 
have  been  appropriated  for  extending  the  park  sys- 
tem and  for  much  needed  additional  school  buildings. 
San  Francisco  occupies  the  proud  position  of  a  munic- 
ipality practically  without  civic  debt. 

In  the  prosperity  which  has  come  with  the  new 
century,  San  Francisco  has  shared  to  the  fullest  meas- 
ure. Capital  has  been  attracted  from  various  parts 
of  the  country.  The  street  railways  were  purchased 
by  a  Baltimore  corporation  and  their  relationship  with 
the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad  terminated.  New 
buildings  were  commenced  in  various  parts  of  the  city 
— great  substantial  steel-frame  structures  of  stone  and 
terra  cotta.  Whole  blocks  of  these  dignified,  well 
proportioned  buildings  are  going  up  on  Mission  Street, 
replacing  shabby  rookeries;  the  splendid  new  Mutual 
Bank  Building  of  gray  stone  and  steep  red  tile  roof, 
towers  up  with  the  other  fine  structures  at  the  corner 
of  Market  and  Geary  Streets.  Facing  Union  Square, 
a  block  away  from  the  big  modern  building  of  the 
Spring  Valley  Water  Company,  the  steel  frame  of  the 
new  Saint  Francis  Hotel  is  climbing  higher  and  higher, 


y6  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

and  the  stonework  follows  with  wonderful  celerity. 
Over  on  Market  Street  at  the  corner  of  Powell,  on  the 
site  of  the  old  Baldwin  Hotel,  and  opposite  the  great 
stone  Emporium,  one  of  the  largest  and  costliest  build- 
ings of  the  city  is  now  being  erected  for  store  and  office 
purposes. 

Just  in  the  nick  of  time,  the  magnificent  new  mar- 
ble postoffice  is  being  completed  up  on  Mission  Street 
to  replace  the  miserable  structure  down  on  Washington 
Street  which  for  so  many  years  has  served  as  a  make- 
shift. A  magnificent  hotel  is  to  be  built  immediately 
by  the  Fair  Estate  on  the  California  Street  heights. 
These  are  but  a  few  of  the  more  striking  business 
buildings  now  being  pushed  to  completion.  In 
one  week,  according  to  statistics  compiled,  six 
millions  dollars'  worth  of  buildings  were  commenced 
in  the  city.  A  gratifying  feature  of  the  work  is  the  sim- 
plicity of  design  followed  in  nearly  every  instance. 
Costly  materials  and  the  most  perfect  of  modern  work- 
manship, combined  with  good  proportions  on  broad 
lines,  are  bound  to  make  the  new  San  Francisco  an 
eminently  satisfying  city  architecturally.  In  former 
days  the  fear  of  earthquakes,  together  with  the  cheap- 
ness of  wood,  made  people,  as  a  rule,  construct  low 
frame  buildings.  Now  that  the  matter  has  been  tested 
and  the  earthquakes  found  to  be  far  less  destructive 
than  the  thunder  storms  of  the  East,  tall  stone  build- 
ings are  no  longer  tabooed. 

All  this  building  is  not  the  result  of  a  speculative 
boom  but  the  response  to  a  real  demand  for  more 
accommodation.  People  are  coming  to  San  Fran- 
cisco from  hither  and  yon,  to  settle  in  the  community. 
New  business  enterprises  are  being  started,  old  ones 
enlarged.  Vast  sums  are  being  expended  upon  rail- 
road improvement  of  lines  centering  here,  and  im- 
mense steamships  are  built  or  building  for  trade  with 
this  port.  Since  the  days  of  '49  such  an  impetus  of 
growth  has  not  visited  San  Francisco. 

That   the   city,    and   indeed   all    California,   has 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  CITY  JJ 

awakened  to  the  opportunities  now  arising,  is  shown 
by  the  recent  organization  of  a  Promotion  Committee 
composed  of  representatives  of  the  various  commercial 
organizations  of  the  city  and  State.  Strangers  are 
made  welcome  at  their  comfortable  headquarters  on 
New  Montgomery  Street,  and  information  relative  to 
the  resources  of  California  is  given  to  all  who  are 
interested. 

It  is  almost  an  axiom  of  civic  life  that  the  perma- 
nent well-being  of  a  city  depends  upon  the  prosperity 
of  its  adjacent  country.  Never  did  any  land  have 
more  to  offer  the  home  seeker  than  has  California. 
The  orange  grows  to  perfection  in  valleys  a  hundred 
miles  north  of  San  Francisco,  where  it  ripens  by 
November,  a  month  earlier  than  in  any  other  part  of 
the  United  States.  Figs  thrive  over  an  even  wider 
area  than  the  citrus  fruits,  and  experiments  recently 
made  in  shipping  them  fresh  to  Chicago  and  New  York 
have  proven  a  success.  California  olive  oil  commands 
a  high  price  on  account  of  its  freedom  from  adultera- 
tion, and  ripe  olives  are  becoming  a  much  relished 
food.  The  prunes  of  San  Jose  and  the  raisins  of  Fresno 
have  acquired  world-wide  fame,  while  California 
wines  compete  successfully  at  international  expositions 
with  their  French  predecessors  and  rivals.  The  im- 
proved railroad  facilities  have  made  it  possible  of  late 
to  ship  early  fresh  vegetables,  as  well  as  all  of  the 
fresh  fruits  to  the  Eastern  market.  Indeed  shipments 
to  Europe  of  fresh  California  fruit  are  now  regularly 
made.  With  the  railroad  back  of  the  people  a 
limitless  market  will  await  the  horticulturist,  and 
his  returns  will  be  proportionate  to  his  labor  and  skill. 

Many  inexperienced  people  have  imagined  that 
fruit  growing  in  California  was  all  attended  to  by 
nature.  Young  Englishmen  have  come  here,  lured  by 
tales  of  prodigal  fertility,  and  have  smoked  their  pipes 
while  their  ranches  went  to  perdition.  Horticulture 
in  California  requires  knowledge  and  hard  work,  much 
as  anything  does  in  this  world  that  is  worth  doing.     The 


78  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

best  results  are  to  be  had  on  irrigated  land,  and  small 
holdings  are  now  proving  more  successful  than  the 
large  ranches  of  the  past,  but  patience,  skill  and  grit 
are  needed  for  the  work.  The  passage  by  the  Ameri- 
can Congress  of  the  Newlands  Act  has  called  the  at- 
tention of  the  whole  country  to  the  possibilities  of 
development  in  the  West  through  irrigation.  The 
lakes  and  streams  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains 
contain  enough  water  to  make  fertile  all  the  cultivata- 
ble  valleys  of  the  State,  and  it  is  now  only  a  question 
of  years  before  this  will  be  done.  The  great  wheat 
fields  of  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin  Valleys,  cul- 
tivated with  gang  plows  and  harvested  with  machines 
that  do  the  whole  process  of  cutting,  threshing  and 
sacking,  are  rivaled  only  by  the  vast  prairies  of  the 
Mississippi.  Another  industry  that  is  assuming  large 
proportion  is  the  manufacture  of  beet  sugar,  which  is 
carried  on  in  parts  of  California  on  an  immense 
scale.* 

The  old-fashioned  placer  mining — the  washing  of 
gold  out  of  the  sand  of  river  beds  with  a  rude  wooden 
cradle — is  no  longer  profitable  as  in  the  days  of  '49, 
but  during  the  past  five  years  over  fifteen  million 
dollars  annually  has  been  mined  by  the  improved 
methods  now  in  vogue,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  dimin- 
ution of  the  supply.  The  great  stamps  of  the  Placer 
and  Nevada  County  mines  are  thundering  away  at  the 
ore,  while  dredgers  scoop  up  the  sand  of  river  bot- 
toms and  sift  out  the  gold  as  it  passes  through. 

In  manufacturing  lines,  San  Francisco  has  been 
greatly  hampered  by  the  lack  of  coal  mines  within 
convenient  distance,  although  a  firm  like  the  Union 


*Mr.  Charles  F.  Lummis  in  his  brilliant  serial,  "The  Right  Hand  of 
the  Continent,"  in  Out  West  for  October,  gives  the  following  summary 
of  California's  production  of  sugar: 

"It  sends  out  40,000  tons  of  beet  sugar,  an  increase  of  fortyfold  in 
seventeen  years.  Leaving  out  Louisiana,  California  produces  more  sugar 
by  ten  per  cent  than  all  the  rest  of  the  Union  combined — more  than  the 
other  beet-growers,  the  Texas  and  Florida  cane,  the  Kansas  sorghum,  the 
maple  sweets  of  New  England,  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  Maryland,  West 
Virginia,  Ohio,  Iowa,  Michigan  and  Minnesota." 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  CITY  79 

Iron  Works,  which  can  build  such  battleships  as  the 
Oregon  and  the  Ohio,  need  not  take  second  place  to 
any  builders  in  the  world.  Up  to  the  present  time 
coal  has  been  king;  but  in  this  as  in  other  matters  an 
era  of  change  is  at  hand,  and  Old  King  Coal  seems 
destined  to  take  a  back  seat.  His  rival  to  the  throne 
is  none  other  than  that  modern  Zeus,  the  wielder  of 
thunderbolts,  which  we  call  the  electric  motor.  For 
many  years  the  use  of  water  as  a  motive  power  has  been 
out  of  date,  but  the  present  cycle  of  progress  brings  it 
once  more  to  the  front.  Over  the  valleys  and  hills  of 
California  march  silent  processions  of  poles  carrying 
heavy  wires  upon  large  insulators.  The  lightning  is 
being  harnessed  to  the  waterfalls  of  the  mountains,  and 
the  mysterious  currents  generated  in  the  far  away 
heights  by  the  singing  streams  which  pour  their  cur- 
rent down  the  rocky  slopes,  are  flashed  in  a  trice  to 
populous  centers,  there  to  light  houses  and  highways, 
to  speed  cars  over  city  streets,  and  to  turn  the  humming 
wheels  of  industry.  In  the  days  to  come,  manufactur- 
ing supremacy  shall  be  determined  not  by  coal  mines 
but  by  waterfalls.  California,  with  its  glorious 
Sierra  battlement  where  the  snows  pile  high  all  win- 
ter long,  melting  in  never-failing  streams  that  swiftly 
course  to  the  valleys,  is  above  all  other  lands  supplied 
with  this  natural  motive  power.  The  mountain 
streams  shall  labor  now  for  man,  and  sing  at  their 
toil.  Even  into  the  great  city  shall  penetrate  their 
power,  and  the  smoke  and  grime  of  coal  shall  be  re- 
placed by  a  mightier  and  cleanlier  force. 

Coincident  with  the  perfecting  of  insulating  ap- 
pliances, making  it  possible  to  carry  electric  currents 
from  the  mountains  to  the  sea,  has  come  the  discovery 
and  development  of  seemingly  limitless  oil  wells  in 
various  parts  of  California.  The  use  of  oil  fuel  as  a 
substitute  for  coal  is  meeting  with  the  most  gratifying 
success.  Railway  engines  burn  it  and  cinders  become 
a  thing  of  the  past.  It  has  been  tested  upon  a  large 
passenger  steamer  running  between  San  Francisco  and 


80  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

Tahiti,  with  the  result  that  a  saving  of  two  hundred 
dollars  a  day  is  effected.  Oil  burning  freight  steamers 
are  plying  between  San  Francisco  and  the  Hawaiian 
Islands.  The  terrible  work  of  the  stokers  is  abol- 
ished and  the  decks  are  no  longer  grimy  with  cinders. 
Within  a  year  all  the  engines  of  the  Southern  Pacific 
Railway  will  be  converted  into  oil  burners.  Dusty 
country  roadways  when  oiled  become  like  park  boule- 
vards. And  thus  electricity  and  oil  are  not  only  replac- 
ing coal  but  accomplishing  far  more  than  the  old  fuel 
could  do.  To  be  sure  the  transition  has  but  begun,  and 
vast  quantities  of  coal  must  still  be  imported  to  San 
Francisco,  but  when  ere  long  the  oil  pipe  line  is  laid 
from  Bakersfield  to  tide  water,  when  J.  Pierpont 
Morgan's  new  oil  company,  just  organized  with  a  capi- 
talization of  twenty  million  dollars,  is  in  operation,  and 
the  new  San  Francisco  Electric  Power  Company  has 
brought  its  lines  from  the  mountains  to  the  city,  the 
demand  for  coal  will  surely  not  continue  to  increase  in 
proportion  to  the  growth  of  population  or  of  manufac- 
turing industries. 

One  other  great  natural  source  of  wealth  Califor- 
nia possesses,  namely  her  forests.  But  every  true  lover 
of  the  wildwood  looks  with  dismay  at  the  recklessness 
with  which  this  treasure  is  being  squandered.  Nor  is 
it  by  any  means  a  sentimental  motive  which  has  actu- 
ated the  protest  against  this  ruin  and  waste.  The  future 
of  California  depends  upon  the  conservation  of  its 
water  supply.  Without  this  the  land  will  become  a 
desert.  The  forests  are  the  only  power  which  can 
restrain  the  impatient  torrents  from  despoiling  the  land 
— from  rushing  down  the  mountains  in  freshets  and 
tearing  away  the  soil  of  the  valleys.  The  forest  roots 
restrain  the  floods,  the  arching  branches  retard  the 
melting  snows,  and  the  bounty  of  heaven  becomes  a 
blessing  instead  of  a  menace  to  the  valleys.  Hence  the 
wisdom  of  a  great  series  of  national  parks  in  the  Sierra 
Nevada  Mountains.  The  hungry  saws  are  ripping  up 
the  sublime  redwood  forests  of  the  coast  district — 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  CITY  8 1 

forests  as  beautiful  and  impressive  as  any  in  the  world. 
One  State  park  of  thirty-eight  hundred  acres  in  the  Big 
Basin  of  the  Santa  Cruz  Mountains  is  already  saved, 
but  aside  from  this  the  entire  stretch  of  redwood  for- 
ests is  at  the  mercy  of  the  lumbermen.  There  should 
be  a  chain  of  such  parks  up  the  coast  to  the  Oregon 
boundary,  lest  our  children  grow  up  to  curse  us  for  our 
sinful  neglect  of  them.  San  Francisco,  awakened, 
aroused,  building,  reaching  out,  must  not  be  satisfied 
with  accomplishing  its  own  immediate  ends,  but  must 
remember  that  it  has  children  who  are  to  inherit  the 
work  of  its  hands. 


THE   EASTERN   SHORE 


VERY  fifteen  minutes  during  the  day- 
light hours  a  great  ferry  boat  leaves 
the  gray  stone  building  at  the  foot  of 
Market  Street  for  the  eastern  shore, 
passing  in  transit  the  return  boats. 
During  the  evening,  travel  is  lighter 
and  boats  run  at  less  frequent  inter- 
vals. Six  miles  of  boating  and  a  like  distance  by  train 
for  five  cents  to  daily  travelers  or  commuters,  and  ten 
cents  for  occasional  passengers,  is  the  cost  of  the  trip — a 
rate  unparalleled  in  suburban  traffic.  The  larger 
boats,  comfortable  and  modern  in  every  detail,  are 
capable  of  accommodating  over  two  thousand  persons, 
in  spite  of  which  they  are  often  taxed  to  their  utmost 
seating  capacity  during  the  morning  and  evening 
hours.  It  is  estimated  that  a  daily  average  of  over 
forty  thousand  people  cross  the  bay,  while  on  special 
occasions  the  travel  has  been  as  great  as  a  hundred 
thousand  persons  in  a  day. 

Oakland,  with  its  estuary  for  deep-water  ship- 
ping, with  ship  yards  for  the  building  and  repairing 
of  vessels,  and  every  facility  for  the  immediate  transfer 
of  freight  from  ship  to  car,  is  peculiarly  well  located  as 
a  commercial  center.  Two  long  piers,  or  "moles"  as 
they  are  called,  reach  out  into  the  bay  to  carry  South- 
ern Pacific  overland  and  local  trains  as  near  as  possi- 
ble to  San  Francisco,  and  a  third  pier  is  now  nearly 
completed  for  the  electric  car  service  of  the  Santa  Fe. 
Alameda  County,  of  which  Oakland  is  the  metropolis, 
is  one  of  the  most  productive  districts  of  the  State.  It 
is  famed  for  its  vineyards,  its  hop  fields  and  orchards. 
Indeed  all  fruits  and  vegetables  thrive  in  its  equable 


THE  EASTERN  SHORE  83 

climate.  The  project  of  tunneling  the  hills  back  of 
Fruitvale,  thus  affording  easy  access  to  the  sheltered 
valleys  beyond  the  Coast  Range,  is  now  nearing  con- 
summation, and  will  become  an  important  factor  in 
the  city's  development.  Already  Oakland  is  the  third 
city  in  the  State  in  population,  its  inhabitants  number- 
ing about  seventy  thousand.  It  has  many  charming 
residences  tucked  away  amid  semi-tropic  gardens,  the 
district  about  Lake  Merritt  being  especially  noted  for 
its  substantial  homes. 

Alameda,  with  over  sixteen  thousand  inhabitants, 
lies  to  the  south  of  Oakland  on  the  low  land,  which,  by 
the  recent  cutting  of  the  tidal  canal,  has  been  con- 
verted into  an  island.  Its  well-kept  macadamized 
streets  and  many  fine  homes  embowered  in  shrubbery 
and  vines,  make  it  a  favorite  residence  town  for  an 
increasing  number  of  people  who  do  business  in  San 
Francisco.  Alameda  is  a  headquarters  for  the  yacht- 
men  and  canoeists  of  the  eastern  shore,  while  its  salt- 
water baths  are  an  attraction  to  those  fond  of  aquatic 
sports. 

One  may  be  forgiven  for  an  undue  partiality  to 
his  own  home  town,  which  is  my  only  excuse  for  en- 
larging on  the  charms  of  Berkeley.  I  know  it  and 
love  it  from  many  years'  residence.  It  is  an  unfinished 
place  with  much  about  it  that  might  be  bettered,  par- 
ticularly in  the  provincial  architecture  of  its  business 
section,  yet  I  have  never  known  anyone,  however 
widely  he  may  have  traveled,  in  New  England  or  in 
Old,  who  has  once  lived  under  the  spell  of  the  Berkeley 
oaks  without  wishing  to  make  it  a  home  for  life. 

Berkeley  lies  upon  the  hills  opposite  the  Golden 
Gate.  Its  homes  command  the  whole  glorious  sweep 
of  bay  and  shore.  Tamalpais  rears  its  finely  chiseled 
profile  to  the  right  of  the  Gate,  and  San  Francisco  on 
its  many  hills  lies  to  the  left.  The  selection  of  this 
site  for  a  State  University  was  an  inspiration  on  the 
part  of  its  founders.  Just  where  a  beautiful  canon 
in  the  Berkeley  hills  descends  to  the  plain,  with  classic 


84  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

laurels  fringing  its  upper  slopes,  and  the  patriarch 
live-oaks  sanctifying  its  lower  levels  with  their  gnarled 
gray  trunks  and  dark  canopies  of  verdure,  upon  the 
gently  rising  slope  which  leads  up  from  the  bay  shore 
some  two  miles  distant,  a  tract  of  two  hundred  and 
eighty-five  acres  has  been  set  apart  for  the  University 
of  California.  The  Berkeley  Hills  rise  abruptly  back 
of  it  to  the  crest  of  Grizzly  Peak,  some  fifteen  hundred 
feet  high,  and  upon  the  three  lower  sides  of  the  grounds 
extends  the  town. 

Wherein  lies  the  charm  of  Berkeley?  Is  it  in 
the  vine-covered  cottages  and  profusion  of  flowers 
which  at  the  height  of  the  season  make  the  town  seem 
decked  for  a  carnival?  Is  it  in  the  glorious  prospect 
of  rolling  mountains  and  far-spread  bay?  Or  is  it  the 
people,  drawn  from  near  and  far  by  that  great  mag- 
net, the  University?  We  old  timers  complain  that  the 
town  is  getting  crowded  and  no  longer  has  the  rural 
tone  of  a  few  years  ago.  But  what  matter?  Ceaselessly 
the  houses  go  up,  new  ones  springing  into  existence  on 
every  hand,  and  the  only  consolation  is  that  on  the 
whole  the  architecture  is  steadily  becoming  simpler 
and  better.  There  is  probably  no  other  spot  in  Cali- 
fornia where  so  many  really  artistic  homes  are  assem- 
bled. For  those  who  like  the  sort  of  people  attracted 
by  a  great  institution  of  learning,  no  society  could  be 
more  delightful  than  is  to  be  found  here.  People  are 
flocking  to  Berkeley  not  only  from  various  parts  of 
California  but  from  many  sections  of  the  East.  They 
hear  of  its  wonderful  climate,  softer  than  San  Fran- 
cisco but  favorable  for  work  all  the  year  round,  the 
most  truly  temperate  climate  imaginable.  They  hear 
of  its  homes,  its  people  and  its  accessibility  to  the  great 
city.  They  come  to  educate  their  children  at  the  Uni- 
versity and  once  here  never  leave  save  by  compulsion. 

The  growth  of  the  University  of  California  in 
recent  years  is  one  of  the  most  significant  facts  in  the 
development  of  the  State.  Throngs  of  students  crowd 
class-rooms  and  laboratories  to  the  utmost  limit,  despite 


OTOGRAPH     BY     IANGE 


ON  THE  CAMPUS  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


THE  EASTERN  SHORE  85 

the  many  temporary  buildings  recently  erected.  The 
University  has  grown  six  fold  in  the  past  twelve  years. 
Harvard  alone  among  American  universities  outnum- 
bers it  in  undergraduates.  Well  may  California  boast 
of  the  fact  that  in  proportion  to  population  more 
students  are  receiving  a  college  education  within  her 
confines  than  in  any  other  State  in  the  union!  Plans 
are  now  being  made  for  a  magnificent  group  of  per- 
manent university  buildings,  and  the  first  of  the  series, 
the  Hearst  Mining  Building,  is  in  course  of  erection. 
Mere  numbers  count  for  little  save  as  an  index  of 
the  desire  for  higher  education.  It  is  the  high  stan- 
dard, the  progressive  spirit,  the  ideals  of  scholarship 
that  are  in  evidence  which  means  so  much  for  the 
future  of  San  Francisco  and  of  California.  It  is  the 
presence  of  such  men  as  Benjamin  Ide  Wheeler,  a 
Greek  scholar  and  writer  of  wide  reputation  before 
he  became  so  forceful  a  power  in  Berkeley  as  presi- 
dent of  the  University,  of  George  Holmes  Howison, 
one  of  the  deepest  philosophic  minds  of  the  age  as  the 
students  of  the  older  centers  of  learning  attest,  and  of 
the  memory  of  the  illustrious  dead — John  and  Joseph 
Le  Conte  and  Edward  Rowland  Sill — these  men  and 
their  co-workers  are  indeed  the  crowning  glory  of 
Berkeley!  The  college  town  has  also  for  many  years 
been  the  home  of  William  Keith  who  has  drawn  the 
chief  inspiration  for  his  matchless  pictures  from  the 
oaks,  the  hills,  and  the  bay  of  this  well  loved  region. 


SOUTH    OF   SAN    FRANCISCO 


CCUPYING  as  it  does  the  end  of  a 
peninsula  flanked  by  ocean  and  bay, 
San  Francisco  has  but  one  direction 
for  expansion,  but  one  outlet  by  land 
— to  the  southward.  Here  extend  the 
hills  and  valleys  of  San  Mateo  County 
with  well-kept  farms  and  prosperous 
villages  and  towns.  Here  is  Burlingame,  where  so 
many  San  Franciscans  of  wealth  and  taste  have  built 
country  homes,  adding  to  the  charm  of  nature  the  arts 
of  the  architect  and  landscape  gardener.  There  are 
miles  of  level  park-like  valley  land  here  where  graceful, 
wide-spreading  oaks  beautify  the  plain,  revealing  be- 
tween their  masses  of  verdure  vistas  of  blue  mountain 
ranges.  In  the  canons  of  these  mountains,  and  even 
up  on  some  of  the  heights  where  the  salt  breeze  and 
fog  drift  in  from  the  sea,  are  superb  forests  of  red- 
wood. I  recall  with  peculiar  delight  the  stage  ride 
over  the  mountains  from  Redwood  City  to  La  Honda, 
down  into  the  deep  dark  glade  where  the  solemn  shafts 
of  the  forest  rise  like  worshipers  of  the  light. 

In  the  warm  valleys  of  San  Mateo  County,  shel- 
tered from  the  ocean  wind,  are  the  market  gardens  for 
supplying  San  Francisco  with  vegetables,  and  flower 
gardens  for  providing  the  wealth  of  bloom  and  frag- 
rance which  makes  the  city  florist  shops  the  delight  of 
all  who  enter  or  even  pass  their  doors.  The  Crystal 
Springs  Lakes  and  San  Andreas  reservoir  in  the 
mountains  of  this  district  are  the  sources  of  San  Fran- 
cisco's water  supply,  enough,  with  other  available 
springs,  to  furnish  water  to  a  million  people. 

In  one  of  the  broad  sheltered  valleys  of  this  beau- 
tiful country  of  oaks  and  vineyards  lies  the  Stanford 


SOUTH   OF   SAN    FRANCISCO  87 

University.  The  inspiring  example  of  a  multi- 
millionaire devoting  his  entire  fortune  to  founding  a 
university  in  memory  of  his  only  son,  and  the  subse- 
quent devotion  of  his  widow  in  carrying  out  in  every 
detail  the  wishes  of  its  founder,  has  made  the  Uni- 
versity world  famous.  Its  beautiful  Spanish  archi- 
tecture, fitting  so  well  the  site,  with  groups  of  low,  tile- 
roofed  buildings  around  an  inner  and  outer  quadran- 
gle, has  done  much  to  create  an  atmosphere  for  the 
University,  and  its  president,  David  Starr  Jordan,  has 
shaped  its  work  on  broad  and  noble  lines.  From  an 
initial  class  of  four  hundred  and  sixty-five  students,  the 
attendance  has  grown  in  ten  years  to  thirteen  hundred. 
The  presence  of  two  great  Universities  within  a  radius 
of  thirty  miles  of  San  Francisco,  with  distinctive  ideals, 
with  strong  individual  presidents,  the  one  emphasizing 
the  scientific  spirit  of  investigation,  the  other  the  Greek 
spirit  of  culture,  but  both  broad  and  liberal  in  their 
views,  is  one  of  the  great  influences,  nay  rather  the 
great  influence  in  shaping  the  future  of  San  Francisco. 
The  rivalry  in  football  and  athletics,  in  oratory  and 
scholarship,  between  the  two  universities,  keeps  both 
on  their  mettle.  Each  helps  the  other,  and  both  work 
for  what  is  highest  and  best  in  the  life  of  the  State. 

From  Stanford  University  and  the  academic  town 
of  Palo  Alto  close  to  it,  a  ride  of  a  few  miles  on  the 
train  takes  the  traveler  to  San  Jose  at  the  head  of  San 
Francisco  Bay.  This  city  is  fifth  in  population  in 
California,  and  is  noted  for  its  park-like  streets  shaded 
by  spreading  foliage  trees  or  ornamented  with  rows 
of  palms,  its  many  substantial  buildings  and  general 
air  of  prosperity  and  thrift.  It  may  well  appear  so 
with  the  great  fruit  country  that  surrounds  it,  where 
some  of  the  finest  prune  orchards  of  the  State  are  to 
be  found,  as  well  as  acres  and  miles  of  other  varied 
deciduous  fruits,  all  cultivated  to  the  last  degree  of 
perfection. 

A  daily  stage  connects  San  Jose  with  the  Lick 
Observatory  on  Mount  Hamilton,  where,  with  the  aid 


88  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

of  the  second  most  powerful  telescope  in  the  world,  a 
small  band  of  devoted  astronomers  have  made  some  of 
the  most  important  discoveries  of  modern  times  in  the 
investigation  of  the  heavens.  Work  of  far-reaching 
importance  has  been  done  here  on  the  rinding  and 
observing  of  double  stars,  on  photographing  nebulae, 
in  spectroscopic  astronomy,  the  detection  of  comets, 
and  in  many  other  fields  of  research.  The  stage  ride 
of  twenty-seven  miles  to  the  observatory  is  over  a  typical 
section  of  the  Coast  Mountains,  the  view  ever  enlarg- 
ing until  the  topmost  point  is  reached  with  its  almost 
unparalleled  expansiveness  of  outlook.  The  whole 
snowy  range  of  the  Sierras  extends  far  off  across  the 
broad  plains  of  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin. 
Mount  Diablo,  and  Mount  Tamalpais  lie  to  the  north, 
and  past  Loma  Prieta  to  the  southward  the  ranges  of 
southern  Monterey  County  are  visible.  San  Fran- 
cisco Bay,  the  fertile  Santa  Clara  Valley  with  its  set- 
tlements, its  orchards  and  cultivated  fields,  and  many 
near  canons  and  wrinkled  hills  are  below  us.  What 
sunsets  one  may  view  from  this  vantage  point,  followed 
by  a  peep  at  some  planet  through  the  great  glass,  and 
glimpses  of  that  illimitable  star  world  so  wonderfully 
revealed!  Then  there  is  the  night  stage  ride  down 
the  mountain,  bowling  around  curves  at  a  lively  trot, 
and  descending  into  the  darkness  and  solitude  of  the 
canons! 

I  think  of  Mount  Hamilton  during  the  lovely 
weeks  of  spring-time  when  baby-blue-eyes  gladdened 
the  slopes,  when  shooting  stars  and  scarlet  larkspurs 
and  lupines  were  waving  in  great  masses  of  radiant 
bloom,  when  the  birds  were  singing  and  courting,  and 
the  lonely  mountain  where  man  holds  communion 
with  the  stars,  thrilled  with  that  loving  touch  of 
nature  which  makes  all  the  world  akin. 


ABOUT   MOUNT   TAMALPAIS 

T  was  wet  on  Washington's  Birthday 
and  the  wind  whistled  merrily  over 
the  Bolinas  Ridge  as  four  jolly  tramps 
swung  down  the  crest  in  full  view  of 
the  miles  of  thundering  surf  from 
Point  Reyes  to  Ocean  View.  They 
drew  up  at  the  door  of  Constantine's 
Tavern  amid  the  spruce  trees,  and  uttered  a  wild  war 
whoop.  Why  any  mortal  man  should  have  thought 
of  building  an  inn  in  that  remote  spot  on  the  stage 
road  from  Ross  Valley  to  Bolinas,  and  still  more  why 
any  other  mortal  men  should  have  thought  of  walking 
ten  miles  on  a  rainy  winter  afternoon  to  get  there,  is 
one  of  those  mysteries  that  passeth  understanding. 
But  the  ceanothus  bushes  were  abloom  in  the  chap- 
arral, the  manzanita  bells  were  coming  forth  on  the 
gnarly  red-stemmed  shrubs,  hound's  tongue  and  tril- 
lium  and  violet  were  putting  forth  timid  petals  in  the 
rain  and  the  birds  were  making  holiday  in  those  lovely 
wooded  glades  of  oak  and  spruce.     It  was  enough! 

Mine  host  Constantine,  surnamed  the  Old  Pirate, 
who  had  concocted  stews  on  the  ferry  boat  for  many  a 
year,  was  there  with  his  good  wife  to  receive  us,  and 
as  soon  as  the  wet  boots  and  clothes  were  steaming  by 
the  big  open  fire  we  sat  down  to  the  festive  board  and 
devoured  plates  of  inimitable  chowder  a  la  Constan- 
tine, savory  chicken  and  the  many  other  Greek  dishes 
he  proudly  set  before  us,  swapping  yarns  the  while 
with  our  host  and  entertaining  his  festive  goat  while 
the  master's  back  was  turned.  We  slept  in  one  of  his 
cabins  before  a  rousing  fire,  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  rain- 
drops trickling  in  through  his  leaky  ceiling.     A  twenty 


90  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

mile  tramp  to  Olima  on  the  morrow  was  one  succession 
of  splendid  views  of  forests  and  mountains,  with  the 
ocean  far  below. 

The  whole  Marin  County  peninsula  is  a  great 
natural  park  with  villages  and  pastoral  country  inter- 
spersed. Would  that  it  might  be  reserved  as  such  for 
all  time!  In  its  sheltered  valleys  grow  the  noble  red- 
woods, the  sublimest  of  forest  trees  save  only  their  com- 
peers of  the  Sierras.  In  the  secluded  Redwood 
Canon  they  still  stand  in  their  pristine  glory — stately 
shafts  of  majestic  proportion  lifting  high  their  ever- 
green foliage.  Mill  Valley  shelters  much  charming 
second  growth  redwood  where  simple  cottages  nestle 
amid  the  trees.  Most  unique  of  these  are  the  Japanese 
houses  built  by  Mr.  George  T.  Marsh. 

From  this  point  the  mountain  railroad  zigzags 
up  Mount  Tamalpais.  After  leaving  the  shade  of  the 
redwood  and  the  fragrant  laurel  dells,  it  turns  and 
twists  up  the  mountain  side,  coiling  in  a  double  bow 
knot,  curving  and  winding  along  ledges  in  search  of 
a  uniform  grade.  The  view  broadens  below — first  the 
bay  with  indentations  and  peninsulas,  islands  and  dis- 
tant hills.  The  city  comes  in  view  across  the  Golden 
Gate,  and  presently  the  ocean  is  sighted.  As  the  stout 
little  oil  engine  pushes  us  still  higher,  we  see  the  twin 
peaks  of  Mount  Diablo  looming  up  nobly  to  the  east- 
ward back  of  the  Berkeley  Hills.  Far  to  the  south- 
east swells  Mt.  Hamilton  on  a  high  ridge,  where  the 
great  eye  of  the  world  watches  silently  the  other 
spheres.  To  the  northward,  fifty  miles  away,  we  see 
Mount  St.  Helena  grimly  rising.  The  train  takes  us 
to  the  comfortable  Tamalpais  Tavern  from  which 
point  the  summit  is  distant  but  a  ten  minutes'  walk. 
The  wind  rushes  wildly  over  the  ridge.  At  our  feet 
stretches  the  ocean,  with  the  Farallone  Islands  seem- 
ingly close  at  hand.  Turning  we  look  down  on  the 
broad  expanse  of  the  bay,  on  hills  and  mountains,  towns 
and  cities.  This  varied  view  of  land  and  sea,  com- 
passing a  hundred  miles  of  the  most  diversified  land- 


ABOUT  MOUNT  TAMALPAIS  91 

scape  of  California,  must  be  seen  many  times  to  be 
thoroughly  appreciated.  Sunrise  over  the  San  Joa- 
quin Valley;  the  red  orb  dipping  down  into  the  fiery 
band  on  the  ocean ;  moonlight,  and  the  witchery  of  the 
fog,  when  the  beholder  sits  like  an  eagle  on  his  crag 
and  sees  the  tumultuous  cloud-floor  spread  below — all 
these  are  but  passing  phases  of  the  splendors  of  nature 
which  may  be  seen  from  this  great  watch  tower  of  the 
Pacific. 

At  foot  of  the  mountain,  nestling  amid  the  valleys 
or  in  cosy  nooks  on  the  bay  shore,  are  many  charming 
suburbs  of  San  Francisco.  San  Rafael  is  the  largest 
of  these  and  is  frequented  by  many  people  of  wealth  as 
well  as  by  a  numerous  population  of  moderate  means. 
Sausalito,  on  the  shore,  is  a  meeting  place  for  yachts- 
men, while  Belvedere  is  famed  for  its  night  water  car- 
nivals. Both  towns  have  many  picturesque  houses  on 
hillsides  overlooking  the  bay.  A  half-hour's  ride  on 
the  ferry  takes  the  suburbanite  from  San  Francisco 
to  his  home.  There  he  may  enjoy  nature,  forgetting 
the  cares  of  business  and  the  stress  and  strain  of  the  city, 
calmed  by  the  expansive  view  of  bay  and  distant  hills, 
and  enlarged  in  spirit  by  communion  with  the  beauties 
far  spread  at  his  feet. 


THROUGH  THE  GOLDEN  GATE 


AN  FRANCISCO  occupies  the  strat- 
egic post  of  the  world  commerce  of 
the  twentieth  century.  "Westward  the 
course  of  empire  takes  its  way"  was  a 
prophecy  which  has  already  found 
fulfillment.  The  Pacific  is  the  new 
theatre  for  the  enacting  of  the  drama 
of  the  nations.  From  time  immemorial  the  world 
has  been  divided  into  the  East  and  West,  the  former 
of  hoar  antiquity,  conservative,  profound,  teem- 
ing with  people,  the  latter  ever  young,  ever  new,  fol- 
lowing in  the  march  of  time,  progressive,  expanding, 
peopling  new  wildernesses,  restlessly  searching  for 
new  worlds  of  hand  or  brain  to  conquer.  From  time 
immemorial  the  West  has  thriven  upon  the  commerce 
of  the  East.  Phcenecia,  Athens,  Alexandria,  Rome, 
Venice,  Spain,  Holland,  England,  each  in  turn  has 
waxed  fat  and  opulent  on  the  commerce  of  the  Orient. 
It  was  in  the  search  for  the  Spice  Islands  that  America 
was  discovered.  It  was  in  the  determined  effort  to 
find  a  more  direct  route  between  Europe  and  the  Indies 
that  most  of  the  future  exploration  of  America  was 
pushed.  It  is  with  the  same  determination  to  sweep 
away  every  obstacle,  however  monumental,  which  sep- 
arates the  Occident  from  the  Orient,  that  the  United 
States  has  undertaken  the  prodigious  task  of  building 
the  Isthmian  Canal. 

After  all  these  centuries  of  effort,  a  great  city  has 
been  reared  upon  the  outposts  of  the  western  world 
with  a  free  sweep  of  sea  off  yonder  to  China.  The 
tidal  wave  of  civilization  has  rolled  around  the  globe. 
The  West  has  reached  its  limit,  and  to  go  beyond 


THROUGH  THE  GOLDEN  GATE  93 

means  to  cross  the  international  date  line  into  the  East. 
So  intent  has  San  Francisco  been  upon  the  petty  local 
problems  which  environed  her  that  she  is  only  now 
awakening  from  her  lethargy  to  realize  the  pre- 
eminence of  her  position.  Standing  upon  the  rim  of 
the  western  world,  the  Orient  is  before  her.  She  com- 
mands the  shortest  route  to  the  East,  seldom  blocked  by 
winter  storms,  and  commerce  will  always  go  that  way. 
It  is  the  law  of  following  the  line  of  least  resistance. 
Even  when  the  Isthmian  Canal  is  finished,  passengers, 
mail  and  all  perishable  freight  will  go  by  the  quickest 
way,  and  the  enforced  reduction  in  railroad  rates  will 
more  than  offset  any  loss  of  freight  business  to  San 
Francisco. 

The  railroads  are  alive  to  their  opportunities  in 
overland  traffic.  They  have  so  reduced  the  time  that 
mail  and  passengers  are  now  carried  from  ocean  to 
ocean  in  a  little  less  than  four  days.  The  terrors  of  the 
desert  are  set  at  naught  by  the  triumphs  of  engineering. 
Vast  sums  of  money  are  today  being  applied  to  the  im- 
provement of  road-beds,  the  straightening  of  curves, 
lowering  of  grades  and  modernizing  of  equipment  on 
the  transcontinental  lines.  Instead  of  the  Northwest 
Passage,  for  which  the  mariners  of  old  sought  in  vain, 
applied  science  has  given  us  the  overland  passage.  So 
rapid  has  been  the  increase  of  freight  business  during 
the  past  year  that  the  railroads  are  hard  put  to  sup- 
ply cars  to  handle  it.  The  Sunset  Limited  train  runs 
daily  now  instead  of  twice  a  week,  to  accommodate  the 
increasing  travel.  Other  railroad  lines  are  seeking  en- 
trance to  San  Francisco  from  the  East.  New  steam- 
ship lines  are  bringing  hither  the  produce  of  many 
shores — of  Alaska  and  South  America,  Oceanica  and 
Australasia,  the  Philippines,  Japan  and  China.  There 
were  but  three  regular  steamship  lines  plying  between 
San  Francisco  and  foreign  ports  in  1895  as  against 
twelve  lines  today,  and  the  foreign  export  business  has 
grown  from  a  tonnage  of  something  over  fifteen  million 
pounds  in  that  year  to  over  two  hundred  million  pounds 


94  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

in  1901.  Our  merchants  are  filling  orders  for  Siberia 
and  New  Zealand.  Korea  and  South  Africa  are  being 
brought  within  the  scope  of  our  commercial  enterprise 
as  well  as  the  various  countries  of  Europe. 

The  great  triangle  of  the  Pacific  is  destined  to 
have  its  lines  drawn  between  Hong  Kong,  Sydney  and 
San  Francisco.  Of  these  three  ports,  Hong  Kong  will 
have  China  behind  it,  Sydney,  Europe,  and  San  Fran- 
cisco, America;  and  with  America  for  a  backing,  San 
Francisco  can  challenge  the  world  in  the  strife  for 
commercial  supremacy.  In  the  midst  of  this  great 
triangle  lie  Hawaii  and  the  Philippines.  From  the 
days  of  Magellan's  immortal  voyage  to  the  time  of 
Dewey,  the  Spanish  stronghold  in  the  Pacific  remained 
unshaken  save  by  internal  dissensions.  Today  America 
is  roused  to  a  new  charge,  and  if  only  the  love  of  liberty 
which  has  so  long  thrilled  the  nation  can  remain  the 
dominating  spirit  in  our  disposition  of  these  populous 
islands,  we  shall  have  a  stronger  hold  upon  the  vantage 
ground  on  the  outposts  of  the  Orient  than  could  ever 
be  gained  by  force  of  arms.  If  we  are  bound  to  these 
people  by  ties  of  mutual  interest,  the  islands  will  be 
to  us  a  source  of  legitimate  profit  and  a  link  in  the 
chain  of  commerce  with  the  Orient,  but  if  we  seek  to 
rule  them  with  a  master  hand,  they  will  become  a  drain 
on  our  pockets  and  a  potent  factor  in  lowering  our 
national  tone.  The  future  of  San  Francisco  is  deeply 
concerned  in  this  matter,  and  the  present  drift  of  events 
seems  happily  in  the  right  direction. 

While  San  Francisco  is  thus  indebted  to  its  com- 
manding position  as  toll  taker  on  the  world's  high- 
way, the  city,  in  common  with  all  California,  is  also 
favored  by  isolation.  Between  the  snowy  crests  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  Mountains  and  the  ocean,  is  a  strip  of 
land  of  extraordinary  fertility.  Here  grow  the  larg- 
est forest  trees  of  the  world,  the  largest  fruits,  the  most 
abundant  crops.  Water,  in  some  parts  of  this  region, 
must  be  artificially  brought  to  the  land,  but  irrigation 
is  at  once  the  oldest  and  the  newest  method  of  assuring 


THROUGH  THE  GOLDEN  GATE  95 

a  harvest.  All  ancient  civilizations  were  in  countries 
which  depended  upon  artificially  watered  crops,  and 
California  is  but  another  instance  where  history  is 
repeating  itself. 

Beyond  this  garden,  for  hundreds  of  miles  to  the 
eastward  stretches  a  desert,  or,  more  properly  speak- 
ing, an  arid  region  of  alkali  plains  and  sage-brush  hills 
which  can  probably  never  support  a  dense  population. 
Thus  are  we  of  the  Coast  cut  off  from  kinsmen  of  the 
East  and  Middle  West.  Trains  may  speed  their  fast- 
est with  mail  and  freight.  Books  and  magazines  may 
come  pouring  in  upon  us  in  a  deluge  from  New  York 
and  Boston,  but  the  physical  barrier  remains.  Cali- 
fornia, cosmopolitan  though  it  be,  thrilling  with  the 
same  patriotic  pride  and  enthusiasm  as  the  East,  is  still 
intensely  self  reliant.  It  does  not  hang  upon  the  opin- 
ions of  Eastern  oracles  but  makes  its  own  standards. 
One  has  but  to  be  inoculated  with  the  California  fever 
by  a  year's  residence  to  become  an  enthusiastic  victim 
for  life.  There  is  a  largeness  of  horizon  here  un- 
known to  the  Easterner.  City  men  go  out  on  summer 
outings  to  climb  lofty  mountain  peaks  that  would  ap- 
pall a  tenderfoot.  The  stern  grandeur  of  the  ocean 
shores  and  the  vast  horizon  of  Sierra  peaks  leave  their 
impress  upon  the  race  that  dwells  in  such  an  environ- 
ment. 

Much  has  been  said  and  written  of  the  climate  of 
California,  but  it  still  remains  a  fruitful  theme.  With- 
in the  radius  of  a  hundred  miles  are  to  be  found  all 
sorts  of  climate,  save  the  greatest  extremes  of  the 
tropics  and  Arctics.  From  the  cool  moist  coast  to  the 
dry  heat  of  the  interior  means  but  the  crossing  of  a  spur 
of  the  Coast  Range.  From  the  frostless  lowlands  to 
a  region  of  heavier  snowfall  than  is  found  elsewhere 
in  the  United  States  implies  but  the  ascent  by  rail  of 
the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains.  In  the  valleys,  roses 
and  oranges;  in  the  mountains,  snow-shoes  and  ice 
carnivals! 

The  climate  of  San  Francisco  is  uniform  to  a  de- 


96  SAN   FRANCISCO  AND  THEREABOUT 

gree  that  is  equalled  in  few  regions.*  The  summer 
fogs  temper  the  heat  and  make  July  and  August  as 
comfortable  as  midwinter  for  work.  The  constant  sea 
breeze  that  sweeps  over  the  hills  all  summer  long  on 
its  way  to  the  hot  interior  valleys,  carries  away  the 
germs  of  disease  and  makes  San  Francisco  an  excep- 
tionally healthful  city.  Frost  is  rare  in  midwinter 
and  a  flurry  of  snow  falls  only  once  in  a  few  years, 
melting  almost  ere  it  touches  the  ground.  From  June 
to  October  scarce  a  shower  moistens  the  ground,  but 
from  November  to  May  there  are  copious  downpours, 
interspersed  with  some  of  the  loveliest  days  of  the  year. 
The  rainfall  varies  in  amount  from  year  to  year,  but 
it  is  always  welcome,  since  the  stormiest  of  winter 
weather  means  an  ensuing  summer  of  abundant  crops. 
Last  winter,  with  a  rainfall  of  twenty-one  inches,  was 
an  average  season. 

From  my  aerie  amid  the  Berkeley  Hills  I  look  out 
through  the  Golden  Gate  and  see  stately  ships  and 
proud  steamers  coming  and  going;  I  can  trace  the  long 
line  of  overland  trains  speeding  along  the  bay  shore; 
away  yonder  the  city  flecks  the  stubborn  heights  of 
San  Francisco.  The  whole  great  pageant  of  com- 
merce is  in  view  afar  off  on  the  blue  and  purple  relief 
map  of  bay  and  mountains.  The  matchless  gate  of 
gold  is  there  glowing  in  the  sunset.  Over  on  La 
Loma,  but  a  stone's  throw  distant,  stood  Fremont  when 
he  named  that  "road  of  passage  and  union  between  two 
hemispheres"  the  Chrysopylae  or  Golden  Gate. 

Where  could  be  found  a  more  fitting  highway  for 
the  world  commerce  to  travel,  where  a  more  sublime 
portal  whence  the  power  and  products  of  western  civ- 
ilization should  go  forth  to  other  shores  of  this  vast 


*The  lowest  temperature  recorded  by  the  weather  bureau  during  thirty 
years'  observation,  is  290  Far.  The  highest  is  ioo°.  The  lowest  mean 
temperature  for  any  month  during  this  period  was  460  and  the  highest  650. 
The  mean  temperature  during  these  thirty  years  was  lowest  in  December, 
when  it  averaged  500,  and  highest  in  September  coming  to  630.  In  other 
words,  the  variation  of  mean  temperature  from  month  to  month  during 
thirty  years  has  been  only  130. 


THROUGH   THE  GOLDEN   GATE  97 

Pacific,  and  the  stored  wealth,  art  and  industries  of  the 
Orient  be  returned  to  enrich  America?  San  Francisco, 
founded  by  the  Spanish  padres  who  bore  the  cross  to 
the  scattered  Indian  tribes  of  the  wilderness,  invaded 
by  a  cosmopolitan  horde  from  the  four  winds  of  the 
globe,  flocking  at  the  cry  of  gold,  developed  by  Amer- 
ican energy  into  the  most  important  city  of  the  Pacific 
shore,  has  now  taken  a  new  impetus  of  growth  and 
has  before  it  a  more  brilliant  future  than  the  most 
sanguine  of  its  founders  dared  anticipate.  May  that 
largeness  of  public  spirit,  that  breadth  of  view  and 
that  readiness  to  co-operate  in  all  that  is  good,  grow 
and  develop  until  the  community  is  able  to  fitly  cope 
with  this  empire  of  the  Pacific  sea  and  shores  and 
make  it  tribute  to  its  genius! 


Printed  by  The  Stanley-Taylor  Company,  San  Francisco. 


UNIVER?1 


.NLA. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


3  1205  00218  0329 

~3Ls 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  914  527    7 


W 


:  ■•: 


, 


